


Must Have Been Mine

by TheNarator



Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Alternate Timelines, Angst, Dubious Consent, Emotional Manipulation, M/M, Mental Institutions, Suicide, Temporary Character Death, Unhealthy Relationships, one-sided flashvibe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-28
Updated: 2016-06-06
Packaged: 2018-07-10 18:07:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 7
Words: 23,817
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6998968
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheNarator/pseuds/TheNarator
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Barry goes back in time to save his mother, but there are some unforeseen consequences to changing the past. Vibe's powers don't just disappear, and Cisco's visions land him in a Mental Institution at the age of fifteen, leaving him vulnerable and alone. When Eobard Thawne comes along to tell him that he's not crazy, well, how can Cisco help but do anything he asks?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

“Wake up,” called the gruff, grating voice of Nurse Crags from just outside Cisco’s door. He groaned, pulling the pillow down over his head. His last hallucination had left him with a splitting headache.

There was a jangle of keys, and the door to Cisco’s room swung open. He kept his eyes shut tight, hoping she’d get the message and go away, but as always she didn’t seem to care about his headache. At least in the Pediatric Psych Ward they’d let him sleep after a hallucination knocked him on his ass, but in Adult Psych the day went on whether he was seeing things or not. Luckily this one had hit right before it was time for everyone to go back to their rooms for a few hours, but it seemed even that peace was to be denied him.

Once Nurse Crags had shuffled inside though, Cisco heard a second set of footsteps tapping smartly over the tile floor. Those footsteps didn’t sound familiar, and he frowned as he tried to place them. They weren’t like the squeaky shoes or Dr. Jacobs or the shuffling footfalls of Dr. Blake, the Psychologist and Psychiatrist assigned to his case. Those weren’t his mother’s heels, and Dante didn’t wear shoes that went _tap-tap_  like that to visit his brother in the Loony Bin. Whoever this was, they weren’t someone who normally came to see him.

“Wake up,” Nurse Crags repeated, more forcefully this time. “You have a visitor.”

Reluctantly Cisco removed the pillow and opened his eyes. Immediately he shut them again, wincing at the brightness of the fluorescents, but with some difficulty he managed to get himself upright with eyes open.

Once they could stand the light however, Cisco’s eyes widened considerably.

“Mr. Ramon,” said Nurse Crags dully, “this is Doctor-”

“Harrison Wells,” Cisco finished for her, pointing at him in disbelief. It was indeed Harrison Wells, tall and reedy in his neat black suit, standing in the middle of Cisco’s room at Central City Psychiatric Hospital. He smiled warmly down at Cisco, then turned to Nurse Crags.

“Thank you,” he said politely. “Could we have a minute?”

Nurse Crags looked dubiously between Cisco and Dr. Wells, but said nothing as she shuffled out of the room, closing the door behind her.

Cisco sat up a little straighter, swinging his legs over the side of the bed, as Dr. Wells took his desk chair.

“I see my reputation precedes me,” Dr. Wells noted with some amusement, “even in a place like this.”

Despite himself Cisco couldn’t help but dart a look to the single shelf he was afforded for books; most of them were about engineering, but plainly visible amongst the technical manuals was Dr. Wells’ autobiography. To his mortification Dr. Wells’ gaze followed his, until it found the picture of his own impossibly blue eyes.

“You have an interest in Engineering,” he surmised, very tactfully not mentioning the autobiography.

Cisco shrugged uncomfortably. “When I was a kid,” he hedged. “Now it’s more of a hobby.”

“Any particular reason it was downgraded?” Dr. Wells asked gently.

“Not much chance to get a degree from in here,” Cisco gestured vaguely around the room. “I don’t blame the correspondence courses for not wanting me either.”

Dr. Wells smiled. “All the greatest inventors have a touch of madness about them,” he said, his eyes warm and so unbearably kind.

“Most of them didn’t have visual and auditory hallucinations though,” Cisco pointed out. He tried to offer Dr. Wells a smile in return, but he thought it might have come off a little dejected.

“I see,” said Dr. Wells, nodding seriously. Then he put his hand into his jacket pocket and pulled out a handful of tiny mechanical parts, like the pieces of a broken puzzle.

“What do you think you could do with these?” he asked conversationally, holding them out to Cisco.

Cisco glanced at the door nervously. “I’m not supposed to have small things,” he protested, “or sharp things. I could swallow them, and-”

“Have you ever tried to hurt yourself, Mr. Ramon?” Dr. Wells asked.

Cisco hesitated a moment, then-

“No,” he admitted quietly.

“Then I think we can keep this between us,” Dr. Wells said in a theatric whisper, eyes sparkling with laughter.

Gingerly Cisco accepted the pieces. For a moment he just looked at them, getting a feel for their weight and their dimensions. They felt oddly right in his hand, like he’d held them before, and not for the first time he was reminded of his recurring hallucination of himself in some kind of research lab, working on a complicated piece of machinery with practiced ease.

He glanced back up at Dr. Wells. “What do you want me to do with them?” he asked.

Dr. Wells shrugged. “Whatever you can,” he said vaguely. “Just do whatever comes naturally to you.”

Cisco hesitated, looking at the pieces in his hand. It suddenly occurred to him that two of them might fit together, and instinctively he moved to connect them. That opened up another connection, and then another, and before long he realized he’d assembled the pieces into some kind of device. It came out looking oddly cylindrical, though the individual pieces hadn’t suggested that shape. It looked almost futuristic to his untrained eyes, and he couldn’t have guessed at its purpose.

He handed the device, whatever it was, back to its owner. Dr. Wells took it, smiling a pleased smile, and Cisco felt an immense satisfaction welling up in his chest. He knew it probably hadn’t been all that impressive, but whatever he’d done had pleased Dr. Wells, and that was enough to make Cisco more proud of himself than he’d ever been.

Dr. Wells pocketed the device, then went back to smiling kindly at Cisco. “Very well done, Mr. Ramon,” he said, and Cisco glowed with pride.

“This is probably going to sound stupid,” he said shyly, “but what is it?”

“Not important,” Dr. Wells shook his head, just a little. “What’s important is that I was right about you.”

“About me?” Cisco echoed, nonplussed. “What about me?”

“You’re brilliant,” Dr. Wells pronounced, and Cisco almost curled in on himself in response to the extraordinary pleasure that lit up in his chest at the words.

“And,” Dr. Wells went on, “I’m going to tell you a secret.”

He leaned in, and Cisco shuffled closer along the bed. He was dying for anything Dr. Wells wanted to give him, to know anything he wanted to tell him.

“I don’t think you’re crazy,” Dr. Wells whispered, with a conspiratory grin.

Cisco frowned, feeling suddenly let down. “No,” he argued, “I see things, things that aren’t really there. I’m definitely-”

“You see things,” Dr. Wells repeated. “Just because they aren’t _there_  doesn’t mean they’re not _real.”_

Cisco shook his head. “They’re hallucinations,” he said firmly, “I know they’re hallucinations, no matter how real they feel.”

“I don’t think they are,” Dr. Wells argued, so calm and implacable that Cisco felt childish for arguing in the first place. “I don’t think they’re hallucinations, Mr. Ramon; I think they’re memories.”

“Memories of what?” Cisco wanted to know. He knew that the little flicker of hope in his chest was probably a bad idea, but he couldn’t quite bring himself to snuff it out.

“An alternate timeline,” Dr. Wells told him. “I believe you’re remembering the life that you had before an event in your past was changed.”

“Changed?” Cisco questioned. “How? By who?”

“I have my theories,” Dr. Wells said vaguely, “but what this means for you and I, Mr. Ramon, is that our fates are rather intimately tied.”

“Why’s that?” Cisco wished he could do something besides ask questions like a gormless idiot, but Dr. Wells wasn’t making any sense.

Dr. Wells took a deep breath, smiling a pleased, excited smile. “I,” he paused, staring at Cisco with something like fondness in his gaze, “am not the real Harrison Wells. My name is Eobard Thawne, and I’m a time traveler from the future.”

Cisco stared at him for a moment, a confusing mix of emotions swirling in his chest. Whatever he’d been expecting Dr. Wells to say, that wasn’t it. Still, at least he felt he had a better grip on what was going on now.

“I’ve never had a delusion before,” he announced, to no one in particular. He squinted at Dr. Wells, or Eobard Thawne, or perhaps the empty space above his desk chair. “Are you really here?” he asked curiously. “You’re a lot realer looking than my other hallucinations, but I guess my symptoms could be getting worse.”

Dr. Wells/Thawne/the hallucination laughed. “I’m really here, Cisco,” he assured him. “And I really need your help.”

“My help,” Cisco repeated dubiously. “What good is a Loony Toon to a time traveler?”

“I told you,” Dr. Eo-Wells reminded him, “what you’ve been seeing is an alternate timeline; more specifically, one where I failed in the mission I came back in time to complete.”

“And what mission would that be?” Cisco decided to play along, at least for the moment.

Wellsobard hesitated, looking off to the side for a moment. His face fell, as though he were remembering something unpleasant, and he had to give himself a little shake before he could return his attention to Cisco.

“To prevent a terrible future,” he explained, his tone hard and displeased. “You are the only one who has any clue as to what went wrong, why I failed the first time.”

He leaned in close, eyes wide and beseeching. “I need you, Cisco. I need you to trust me.”

Cisco wanted to trust him. He wanted to believe what he was being told, that he wasn’t crazy, wasn’t broken, that he was whole and sane and needed. But he couldn’t wish this to be real any more than he could wish his visions gone, and he knew there was no way it was true.

“No,” he said, crawling back farther onto the bed, away from this brilliant man and his too-good dreams. “I can’t believe that. I’m sorry.”

“What would it take to make you believe I’m from the future?” Dr. Wells -- because he was Dr. Wells -- asked patiently.

“You can’t,” Cisco insisted, “there’s no-”

“What if I showed you the method by which I traveled back in time,” he offered, as normally as if Cisco had asked for a demonstration of his latest invention.

“I have hallucinations,” Cisco reminded him dryly. “I don’t have a very trusting relationship with my senses.”

“With your sight, no,” Dr. Wells conceded. “With your hearing. But what about touch?”

Cisco swallowed. He had never been able to touch anything in his hallucinations before. Generally he could pull himself out of them by pinching himself, and touch had always been the sense that made things feel real. If Dr. Wells could produce proof that he could _touch . . ._

“Okay,” Cisco nodded cautiously. “I’ll play ball. If I can touch it, I’ll believe it’s real.”

Dr. Wells, or perhaps Thawne, smiled again, and this time it was a smug smile of deep satisfaction.

“It’s not about what you can touch, Cisco,” he said, and there was a strange kind of promise in his voice. “It’s about what can touch _you._ ”

He stood up from the chair and moved to the bed, sitting opposite Cisco on the thin sheets. Cisco waited, a little nervous despite himself, as the man across from him held up a hand.

Then, the hand being held in front of Cisco’s face started buzzing.

He stared at it, transfixed, as the hand continued to vibrated back and forth a few centimeters, emitting a low hum as it did so. It seemed so _real_ , realer than any hallucination Cisco could remember, and he almost didn’t want to touch it and break the illusion. Then Dr. Wells took the choice away from him.

Gently, so gently, he brushed his vibrating hand across Cisco’s cheek. Immediately the skin there came to life, ripples of sensation spreading outward from where Dr. Wells’ --Thawne’s -- fingers touched him. Cisco closed his eyes, letting the vibrations wash over him, not trusting his eyes or his ears but instead reveling in the _touch_  of Thawne’s hand as it buzzed against his skin. A thumb slid across his face to rest on his lips, and he could feel the vibrations there too, feel them in his _teeth,_  and it was  _real._

Suddenly the buzzing stopped and the feeling vanished, and Cisco opened his eyes to find Thawne -- for it was, in fact, Eobard Thawne -- watching him with a faintly patronizing expression.

“Do you believe me now?” Thawne asked.

Mutely, Cisco nodded. He had questions, but now didn’t seem the time to be making demands.

“Then you’ll come with me?” Thawne prompted.

Cisco blinked. “What?”

“I’m transferring you to my care,” Thawne explained, getting up from the bed and crossing to the door. “I’ll take responsibility for your treatment, and I think you’ll find you make a speedy recovery.”

“You’re a Physicist though,” Cisco protested, “not a Medical Doctor.”

“I have a Medical Doctor,” Thawne waved that away with his hand on the doorknob. “She shouldn’t be necessary for long.”

“You . . . you can’t just check me out of the hospital,” Cisco insisted, a little apprehensively. This was all happening very fast. “My family, they’ll-”

“You’re eighteen now Cisco,” Thawne interrupted, stepping away from the door to return to the bed. “You’re an adult. You make your own choices.” He shook his head as though in disbelief. “You have no idea what your real abilities are, the things I can _teach_  you, but only if you let me.”

He held out a hand to help Cisco up. “So, are you coming with me?”

Cisco hesitated only a moment, some instinctual part of him rebelling in fear, but in the end there was no choice to make. He had nothing to gain by staying here, and nothing to lose by going with Thawne. He had to do this, for Thawne and for himself. He had to.

He took the hand that was held out to him, and as Thawne dragged him off the bed and out of his tiny little world, their fingers somehow intertwined.


	2. Chapter 2

Barry Allen awoke to the sound of Lady Gaga’s “Pokerface” and two unfamiliar voices arguing above his head.

He returned to consciousness gradually, letting one of Iris’s favorite songs wash over him. If it was playing that meant she was close by, which was a very compelling reason to stay in bed, when there was every chance she would join him. He considered reaching out for her, but his arms felt heavy, so instead he listened for her. He heard a voice, but now that he was focussing on that instead of the music it became clear that there was more than one voice, and neither of them belonged to Iris.

Barry sat bolt upright, starring wildly around. This was not his apartment, or even his room at home. He was hooked up to several machines, and there were two people he didn’t recognize standing around his bed. In front of him was a young man in a graphic t-shirt, and beside him was a woman with long brown hair.

“Oh my god!” exclaimed the man in the t-shirt.

“Where am I?” Barry demanded, breathing hard.

“He’s up,” noted the brunette woman in surprise. Immediately she began a rather aggressive examination, clinically calling out his vital signs as shined a pen light in his eyes.

There were a number of electrodes attached to his head and chest, and Barry began tearing them off. He had to get out of here, he had to-

“Hey, relax,” soothed T-Shirt, coming up on Barry’s other side. “You’re at STAR Labs.”

“STAR Labs?” Barry repeated. He searched his memory, but could think of no earthly reason why he should be at the world’s foremost research lab first thing in the morning. “Who are you?”

“I’m Cisco Ramon,” T-Shirt introduced himself, “she’s Dr. Caitlin Snow-”

Caitlin interrupted him to demand a urine sample and Cisco began to talk over her to try and explain. She kept up a steady stream of medical jargon as Cisco told Barry that he’d been struck by lightning, and had since been in a coma.

“For how long?” Barry wanted to know. Immediately his thoughts turned to Iris, to the ring he’d recently bought for her, to the date he’d planned to propose to her. How long had those plans been postponed?

“Nine months,” came a third voice, this one slightly more familiar than the other two. Barry turned to find Dr. Harrison Wells -- _Dr. Harrison Wells_  -- entering the room in a motorized wheelchair.

Dr. Wells explained, a great deal more calmly than Cisco and Dr. Snow, that the particle accelerator had exploded. The energy that was expelled upwards had seeded a storm cloud, which was what had caused Barry to be struck by lightning. Dr. Wells, in what Barry could only call a stunning display of generosity, had brought Barry to STAR Labs for treatment after his accident.

“I am deeply grateful to your parents for allowing me to help you,” Dr. Wells told him as they made their way back into to where Cisco and Dr. Snow were waiting for them. “And to Miss West, although I think she may have had some . . . understandable misgivings about me.”

“Iris?” Barry asked in disbelief. He couldn’t imagine her being anything but ecstatic about Barry’s personal hero taking an interest in him.

“Iris, yes,” Dr. Wells said with some amusement. “She came to see you quite often.”

“She talks a lot,” Caitlin commented, coming forward to hand Dr. Wells a thermos of coffee.

“Also, she’s hot,” Cisco laughed.

Barry turned to glower at him. “She’s my girlfriend.”

Cisco looked mortified, then shot a nervous glance at Dr. Wells. Barry turned back to him, to see that he was glowering as well.

“I have to go,” Barry announced, “I have to go see her, she’s probably worried.”

“You can’t!” Caitlin protested.

“Caitlin’s right,” Dr. Wells agreed, “now that you’re awake we need to do more tests-”

“You don’t understand,” Barry told them, already making for the door, “I have to-”

“Wait!” called Cisco as Barry made it out into the hallway.

Barry opened his mouth to respond, but Cisco had already reached out a hand toward him. From his outstretched palm came a blast of energy, unlike anything that Barry had ever seen, which struck him in the chest with the force of a moving car. He stumbled backwards, slamming into the wall, and the last thing he heard before blacking out was Dr. Wells calling out Cisco’s name in what he could best describe as an admonishing tone.

***

“So how long have you been able to do that?” he asked Cisco, after he woke up for the second time that day.

“About three years,” Cisco said, not looking at him. He had apologized several times already, and it looked like he was fighting the urge to do it again. It would have been almost cute, if not for the ache in Barry’s ribs.

They were back in the room that Dr. Wells referred to as the Cortex, Barry back in his hospital bed and Cisco fiddling with the machines around him. Caitlin had taken two x-rays and pronounced the rate at which his cracked ribs were healing to be “absolutely impossible,” and insisted that they take another x-ray in an hour. In the meantime Barry had called his parents, simply telling them that STAR Labs wanted to run more tests and that he would see them soon. Iris he was hoping to surprise.

Barry wasn’t entirely sure what to do to put Cisco at ease again, but he badly wanted to know how and why Cisco had gotten his powers. He’d been fascinated by the impossible since he was eleven years old, and Cisco’s abilities were nothing if not impossible.

Barry wet his lips, then decided to try something. “When I was eleven years old, I witnessed something incredible,” he began. “It was late; a noise woke me up, and when I came downstairs I saw a lightning storm in my living room.”

Cisco looked up at him again, frowning. “A lightning storm?”

Barry nodded. “Inside the lightning there was a man. I was . . . taken, out of my house, but just down the street. When I came home my mom told me that a man, another man, had come out of nowhere and saved her from the man in the lightning.”

For a moment Cisco didn’t say anything, staring at Barry with a strange expression. “That . . . sounds traumatic,” he said at last.

Barry shrugged. “I got over it,” he said nonchalantly. “My mom was fine, so I was okay. But weird stuff, impossible stuff, like your powers, has been really fascinating to me ever since.”

“As you are fascinating to us,” interrupted Dr. Wells’ voice from the doorway, Caitlin at his side. “It’s time for your next x-ray, Mr. Allen.”

Obediently Barry stood up. His ribs felt a lot better actually, despite the fact that Caitlin hadn’t given him anything for pain. He followed her out of the Cortex as Dr. Wells wheeled his way closer to Cisco, and he and Caitlin left the two of them talking quietly together.

Caitlin’s x-ray revealed that Barry’s ribs had somehow completely healed. As curious as Barry was about his miraculous recovery he needed to go see his parents, so he promised to come back in the next day and left the lab. He wanted to go straight to Iris, but he’d promised his parents and so opted to go home first, to where his mother was waiting to receive him into a tight hug.

“I was so scared,” she whispered tearfully into his shoulder.

“I told you that night,” Barry replied, not needing to specify which night; they both knew. “I’ll always come back for you.”

Being kissed, cuddled and cooed over by Iris had always been pretty high up on Barry’s list of favorite things, and her affectionate concern when he interrupted her shift at Jitters was even better than discovering he was a medical miracle. Learning that super-healing abilities were apparently a side-effect of super-fast-running abilities was also pretty high on the list, but still had nothing on Iris, so he decided to have dinner with her rather than return immediately to STAR Labs to report the development. He would be going back there the next day anyway, and he didn’t want to leave her alone again.

He considered popping the question that night, telling her that he’d never leave her alone as long as they lived, but decided that now wasn’t the time. She was still reeling from his coma, and from the death of her father’s partner, which Barry had missed due to his accident. He would ask later, when things returned to normal.

The trip to STAR Labs the next day, however, reminded him that things might never be ‘normal’ again.

***

“So, what’s the deal with Cisco?” Barry asked Caitlin as she checked the equipment which would monitor his vitals as he ran.

Caitlin didn’t so much as glance up at him. “What about Cisco?”

“How do his powers work?” Barry wanted to know. “Where did they come from?”

“We’re not sure,” Caitlin confessed. “I’ve been helping Dr. Wells study his abilities, but we still haven’t gotten very far in determining how they work.”

“So does Dr. Wells just collect people with weird powers?” Barry laughed.

This time Caitlin did glance up at him, and her expression was oddly hard. “This isn’t a joke,” she said seriously. “Dr. Wells found Cisco in a mental institution. He saved Cisco; without Dr. Wells he’d still be there.”

“A mental institution?” Barry repeated incredulously. “What was he doing there?”

“We’re not sure if it’s connected to his other powers, or how,” Caitlin began, “but Cisco has visual and auditory hallucinations sometimes. Dr. Wells thinks they’re visions of the future, but not all of them have come to pass yet.”

“What do you think?” Barry asked.

Caitlin shrugged. “He saw me before we met,” she admitted, “but he won’t tell me about most of his visions. It’s something he and Dr. Wells work on.”

Barry nodded. Cisco and Dr. Wells seemed close, but he didn’t want to comment on it, not if their bond came from something terrible that had happened to Cisco. He couldn’t imagine being stuck in an institution when he wasn’t crazy, and his heart went out to Cisco for enduring that.

“Just look after yourself, alright?” Caitlin advised. “We don’t know what kind of side effects your powers could have. They might not all be as positive as miraculous healing.”

Barry considered that as he ran the length of the airstrip, making sure that Dr. Wells, Caitlin and Cisco had plenty of data to work with. He didn’t think he could have dealt with these powers if the side effects were hallucinations, and he still wasn’t sure what kind of effects he’d encounter. It made him nervous, but all the more eager to tell Iris while things were still good and new, untainted by whatever drawbacks would come next.

***

Barry picked up Iris from her shift at Jitters, and as they walked toward the apartment they shared he began wondering how to explain the things that had happened. There was so much to tell, so much he didn’t properly understand himself. He’d probably have to take her to STAR Labs at some point, to have Caitlin and Cisco help him with the finer points.

“So I’ve been meaning to talk to you,” he began vaguely, “about some of the tests they’ve been running on me at STAR Labs.”

“What?” said Iris, looking up at him suddenly. “Sorry I didn’t catch that.”

Barry frowned. “Something wrong?”

“It’s just . . .” Iris bit her lip, brow creased adorably in worry. “Clyde Mardon, the guy who killed my dad’s partner. I told you died, right?”

“Yeah,” Barry nodded.

“Well, eyewitnesses place him at a bank robbery after some kind of freak storm,” Iris explained. “I’ve been meaning to tell you about it, it seems like just your thing, but ever since I found out Mardon was involved-”

At that point, Iris’s story was interrupted when the two of them were nearly hit by a car.

Barry managed to get Iris out of the way, but only with the help of his powers. He looked up angrily, hoping to get a glimpse of the driver, and as time seemed to slow down around him he caught sight of the man behind the wheel.

It was Clyde Mardon.

***

“You’re not a hero,” Dr. Wells insisted, when Barry confronted him about the accelerator explosion. “You’re just a young man who was struck by lightning.”

Angrily Barry stormed from the Cortex. He couldn’t believe that Dr. Wells, the man he’d looked up to since he was a child, was refusing to help. It was _his_  accelerator that had caused this, created these “meta-humans,” yet he cared more about what could be learned from Barry’s power than protecting Central City. He didn’t even think to use his speed as he marched determinedly from the lab, intent on leaving and never coming back. 

Someone had to do something, and if it wasn’t going to be Dr. Wells then Barry would do it himself.

“Wait!” called a now-familiar voice behind him, and Barry turned to see Cisco running down the hall to catch up with him.

Cisco came to a stop awkwardly in front of Barry. Now that he had Barry’s attention he didn’t seem to know what to do with it, and he looked down at the floor as though trying to gather his courage.

“What is it?” Barry demanded, unable to keep the anger and impatience out of his voice.

Cisco flinched, and Barry suddenly felt bad for him. He could hardly blame Cisco for taking Dr. Wells’ view of things, after all that Wells had done for him.

“I-” Cisco stuttered, then squared his shoulders and looked up to meet Barry’s eye. “I want to help.”

***

As it turned out, Cisco and Barry made a pretty good team.

***

“I’d much rather you hadn’t risked yourself today,” Eobard told Cisco as he emerged from the bathroom adjacent to the master bedroom. Eobard was lounging on the bed reading a book, and Cisco had just emerged from the shower. 

“I’m sorry,” Cisco said as he took the tie out of his hair; he hadn’t wanted to wash it before bed. “And I’m sorry I almost hurt Barry, before.”

“That’s quite alright Cisco,” Eobard assured him, marking the page in his book, “no harm done. You simply need to exercise more control.”

As Cisco approached the bed Eobard swung his legs over the side, the better to receive Cisco into his arms. Cisco went willingly, letting the older man draw him close until Cisco was practically in his lap. He lowered his head, expecting a kiss, but before he could connect their lips Eobard pulled back.

“Remember,” Eobard said seriously, “Barry Allen is not only vital to preserving the timeline, but to ensuring _our_ return to the future.”

“Right,” Cisco nodded, feeling suddenly self-conscious. He hadn’t felt this out of control since he’d first discovered his active powers. To have let them go accidentally like that . . .

“I’ll be more careful next time,” he promised.

This time Eobard drew him down for a kiss, working a hand into Cisco’s hair and tilting his head for the proper angle. Cisco sighed against his lover’s mouth and let Eobard have control, feeling the stress and tension of the last two days melt away in the heat from Eobard’s mouth. One thing still weighed on his mind, but as a warm hand stroked over his shoulder blades to settle in the small of his back he decided to save it for another day, when he hadn’t just had to apologize for endangering the centerpiece of their mission.

As always though, Eobard could read him like an open book.

“What is it Cisco?” he asked, pulling away from the kiss to look Cisco in the eye.

Cisco blushed, wishing he could hide at least something from the older man. It was unnerving, having someone who knew him inside and out, but also comforting. It frightened him, on some days. He loved it.

“I just . . .” he trailed off, looking for the words. “It was something Barry said.”

“Which was?” Eobard prompted patiently. He looped both arms around Cisco’s waist, taking most of the boy’s weight onto his thighs.

Cisco let himself be drawn in, bracing himself with his hands on Eobard’s shoulders.

“He said something happened to him when he was eleven,” Cisco explained. “That he saw a lightning storm in his living room, and there was a man inside the lightning.

“Admittedly intriguing,” Eobard told him. “Why is it bothering you?”

“It’s not bothering me,” Cisco said hurriedly, but at Eobard’s raised eyebrow he lowered his eyes. “Could it have been a time traveler? A speedster, like you?”

“It’s possible,” Eobard nodded, frowning in thought. “There certainly are others.”

“Then could that be the event that changed my past?” Cisco asked, trying not to sound to eager and probably failing. “Something that happened that night?”

“A time traveler would have been necessary to create an alternate timeline, yes,” Eobard conceded, but seemed unwilling to go any further than that.

“The timeline where you failed in your mission?” Cisco wondered.

“And the timeline your visions have been trying to show you,” Eobard confirmed.

Cisco hesitated. He always hated asking favors from the man who had already done so much for him, was planning to take him all the way to the _future_ , but this was something he’d wanted since he’d first seen Caitlin and recognized her from his visions. In the end, his curiosity got the better of him. He had to know.

“Barry wants to look into it,” Cisco told him. “Can we . . . do you think we could?”

“I’d counsel caution in this area,” Eobard warned with a stern look. “We don’t want to create another alternative timeline now do we?”

Cisco nodded dejectedly. “I understand,” he said, looking down again.

“But,” Eobard went on, placing a hand under Cisco’s chin to lift his gaze again, “if you feel strongly about it, I suppose we can see what leads present themselves. Is that acceptable to you?”

“Of course!” Cisco grinned broadly, leaning down to peck a kiss against his lover’s lips. “Thank you. Eobard.”

The older man shivered, as he always did when Cisco used his true name. “Now, on to more pressing matters,” he said, and suddenly Cisco found himself on his back on the bed, Eobard looming over him. “You have apparently been concealing an attraction to Iris West.”

Cisco fluttered his eyelashes coyly. “She’s . . . pretty,” he hedged.

“And?” Eobard prompted, something of a growl in his voice, but he was smiling teasingly.

“And I’m taken,” Cisco assured him, tilting his head up to beg a kiss. Eobard gave it, and then another, pressing him inexorably down into the pillows, stealing the breath from his lungs until Cisco lay panting and flushed beneath him.

“You’re mine, Cisco,” Eobard insisted, lips trailing over his cheek towards his ear.

“Yeah,” Cisco sighed, eyes slipping shut as he turned his head accommodatingly.

Eobard nipped hard at the delicate shell. “I want to hear you say it.”

“I’m yours,” Cisco said obediently, tilting his head to bare his throat.

As expected, Eobard moved down to Cisco neck and immediately sought the places where he was most sensitive. Cisco panted, reaching up to tangle his fingers in Eobard’s hair, but before he knew what was happening both his hands had been gathered in one of Eobard’s and were being held down over his head.

“Again,” Eobard insisted, breath hot against Cisco’s ear.

“Yours,” Cisco whined, twisting his wrists in the older man’s grip and finding no escape, squirming as Eobard went back to work on his neck. “Always, always yours.”

Eobard bit down hard on the place where Cisco’s neck met his shoulder, and Cisco cried out, arching off the bed to mold their bodies together.

Eobard chuckled darkly. “There’s my good boy.”


	3. Chapter 3

“You used your gift to hurt people,” Barry told Girder, the two of them standing on opposite sides of the glass door to a pipeline cell. “Not anymore.”

As Girder began to yell and scream, banging on the door with his metal fists, Barry turned and walked calmly down the hallway. He kept his sedate pose until the blast door had closed behind him, then as soon as Girder couldn’t see him any more he punched the air in satisfaction.

“Dude! That had to feel great,” Cisco grinned. He’d have liked to be there with Barry as he gave his speech, given that Vibe and the Flash had caught Girder as a team, but Tony was Barry’s childhood bully and this moment of triumph was for him.

“You have no idea,” Barry agreed, then opened his arms so Iris could insinuate herself between them.

“Almost as good as being my hero?” she asked teasingly, her arms sliding easily around his neck as his encircled her waist.

“Nothing beats that,” Barry assured her, then leaned down and kissed her with a great deal more enthusiasm than Cisco felt appropriate for their surroundings. The diamond on her finger glittered against her dark skin as she caressed the nape of Barry’s neck, and for a few moments they both seemed entirely lost in each other.

Caitlin eventually decided to avert her eyes and Cisco turned tactfully back to the console on the wall, checking to make sure the cell was closed and on its way back into the pipeline. He touched the screen to bring up the cell’s location, but as he did so the world around him went suddenly blue.

_He was standing in an office, the doors closed and blinds drawn on the windows. Iris’s father, Detective West, was there, as well as a short woman in very professional business clothes. They were staring at each other, both of their faces lined with concern._

_“What you’re doing, it’s called unlawful imprisonment and human smuggling,” the woman said harshly. “Joe those are very bad things.”  
_

_“These are some bad people Cecile,” Detective West argued, but the woman didn’t look convinced._

With a gasp Cisco suddenly found himself in the real world. He had apparently spaced out rather noticeably, as when he turned around Barry, Iris and Caitlin were all staring at him in concern.

“Cisco?” Barry said anxiously. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” Cisco nodded hurriedly. “I just have to go talk to Dr. Wells about something.”

He made to leave, but Barry zipped in front of him to block his way. “Did you get a vibe?” he asked curiously. “What did you see?”

“Barry, give him some space,” Iris insisted, tugging him away. Reluctantly, Barry went, and Cisco was able to make his escape.

***

“I’m just worried,” Cisco told Eobard quietly, the two of them having moved to his workroom for more privacy. “What if this is what caused your plan to fail the first time, some kind of legal complication?”

Eobard looked pensively off into the distance. “I have a contact,” he said at last, “in the Army-”

“Not General Eiling,” Cisco groaned. “He’s a psycho, remember?”

“I’ll make sure the terms of our deal are very specific,” Eobard assured him, “but the man has an authority that we lack.”

Cisco looked away. He hated Eiling, a smug bastard who had always seemed unnecessarily cruel when he’d worked with STAR Labs, and Cisco had thought Eobard had hated him as well. Certainly he’d given up the army contract when he’d found out what Eiling was doing to Grodd, a test subject gorilla of which Eobard had been extremely fond. If Eobard was still willing to enlist Eiling’s help however, Cisco was forced to call that into question.

He was pulled out of his contemplation by Eobard lacing their fingers together. He couldn’t risk standing up from the chair outside of the house, but he pulled Cisco to him until Cisco dropped obediently to his knees beside the chair. Eobard brought Cisco’s fingers to his lips and kissed them tenderly, and when Cisco looked away self-consciously Eobard dropped his hand and cupped his face instead, tilting it up so that their eyes met.

“I believe this solution is not dissimilar to the deal that Oliver Queen has with ARGUS,” he pointed out. “What’s good enough for the Arrow is hardly too good for the Flash, wouldn’t you agree?”

Cisco blushed, embarrassed. When Eobard put it like that, the answer seemed obvious.

“Of course,” he said, nodding shyly. “I don’t know what I was thinking.”

“You were thinking with your heart,” Eobard told him, leaning down to kiss the crown of his head. “It’s one of the things I admire most about you.”

Cisco glowed with pride. It always made him feel inordinately pleased with himself when Eobard complimented him. It made him feel wanted, valued, like he was _worth_  something.

“If you feel strongly about it-” Eobard began, but Cisco shook his head.

“No,” he smiled reassuringly up at Eobard. “Your way is best, obviously.”

Eobard ran his fingers gently through Cisco’s hair. “There’s my good boy.”

***

To Cisco’s relief, Barry didn’t ask too many questions about their new arrangement for containing metahumans. Iris, being a journalist, was slightly more curious, but Eobard was as persuasive as ever and managed to convince everyone that working with Eiling was for the best. The prisoner transfer went off without a hitch, and despite Eiling being his usual smug self he promised to take good care of any bad metahumans they captured.

Despite what Eobard has said though, Cisco still had some misgivings. He’d had vibes about Eiling, even before the army contract, and although none of them really proved anything about the man they all gave him the creeps. Eobard assured him that he’d checked up on the metahuman prisoners using his speed, and there had been no surprises. Eiling was keeping to the deal.

And yet . . .

And yet nothing. Cisco forced himself to push his worries from his mind, refusing to let himself be troubled by it. They had no better options. Legal complications could be a threat to their mission, something none of them could afford. Eobard had said this would be alright. So it would be alright.

As always though, he couldn’t hide anything from Eobard.

“Please,” Cisco whined, late one evening as his lover thrust inside him at a leisurely pace. “Please, let me-”

“Not yet pretty boy,” he insisted, peppering Cisco’s face with light kisses. “Just a little longer.”

Cisco keened, thrashing in the grip that pinned his wrists to the bed. Eobard had kept him teetering on the edge of orgasm for the better part of an hour, and he was so desperate he could hardly think straight.

“Please,” Cisco repeated, “I just need it a little harder, I need-”

“You need exactly what I give you,” Eobard growled against his ear. “I always give you what you need, don’t I pet?”

“Yes,” Cisco nodded frantically, “always, always.”

He was rewarded with a slight increase in tempo, making him whine again as he squeezed his legs around where they were locked around his lover’s waist.

“Say my name,” Eobard ordered. “My sweet, clever boy, tell me who you belong to.”

“You,” Cisco told him. “You, Eobard, Eobard Thawne.”

Eobard snapped his hips, driving into Cisco hard, making him cry out. “Again.”

“Eobard!” Cisco wailed, arching off the bed as the thrusts came harder, faster.

Eobard let out something like a low growl next to Cisco ear, and released the younger man’s wrists. Immediately Cisco’s hands went up to tangle in Eobard’s hair, pulling him in for a kiss. Eobard gave it, hard and deep, and with his free hand he began to stroke Cisco’s cock furiously, thrusting faster and faster until Cisco was spilling himself between them. His orgasm had him clenching tight around his lover, and Eobard his his face in Cisco’s neck as he came.

After a few more thrusts that had Cisco verging on overstimulation Eobard rolled off him, and they both lay there panting for a few moments. As Cisco came down from his high the things that pleasure had driven from his mind came back all at once, and he tried to focus on his lover’s breathing rather than the thoughts that ran unbidden through his head.

Then Eobard released a deep sigh, turned back to Cisco and propped himself on one elbow. “Alright, out with it,” he said sternly.

Cisco blinked up at him in confusion. “What?”

“Something’s on your mind,” Eobard insisted. “I want to know what it is.”

Cisco bit his lip nervously. They’d had this conversation once before, and he didn’t want to seem stupid or ungrateful by forcing Eobard to repeat it, but he couldn’t bring himself to lie to those piercing blue eyes.

“I’m just worried about this deal with Eiling,” he confessed. “I just wish I could be sure we made the right choice.”

“Seeing you here like this makes it very difficult for me to question my life choices,” Eobard admitted, leaning down to kiss Cisco soundly.

For a few lazy kisses Cisco thought to let the matter drop. Eobard’s choices were not for him to question; Eobard knew about the future, knew about the greater good that could be preserved or destroyed by their mission. Still, there was one choice that Cisco was curious about, that eclipsed even his worry about Eiling.

“Why did you choose me?” he asked quietly, when Eobard had pulled back to look at him.

“Well originally I went looking for you because of your powers,” Eobard informed him. “The history books of my time have a lot to say about you, Vibe, and I knew you’d be useful.”

Cisco tried not to feel let down by this. Of course Eobard hadn’t come back looking for a partner, he had a mission to complete and Cisco was beneficial to it. There was no other reason to-

“If, however,” Eobard went on, surprising him, “you are inquiring as to why I chose to take you to the future, it’s because I can no longer imagine my life without you.”

A warm glow of pleasure, better than anything Eobard had ever wrung from his body, flickered to life in Cisco’s chest. Hearing those words from his lover was like nothing else he’d ever heard; nothing could have equaled the feeling of knowing he was important to someone as amazing as Eobard Thawne. Eobard hadn’t come back looking for a lover, no, but he’d found one anyway, and now he didn’t want to give Cisco up. He was the first and only person in Cisco’s life who had ever wanted to keep him.

“You know,” Cisco said teasingly, trying to lighten the mood from how serious it had gotten, “if we do go to the future-”

“ _When_ we go to the future,” Eobard corrected, smiling reassuringly.

Cisco continued as though he hadn’t been interrupted, “-eventually I’m going to get a look at those history books.”

Eobard had stubbornly refused to tell him anything about how history remembered Vibe. He claimed it was dangerous to know too much about one’s own future, but if Cisco were removed from his own time then it would hardly matter.

“Not for as long as I can help it,” Eobard raised an eyebrow challengingly.

“What, you’re not going to let me leave the house?” Cisco laughed.

“For as long as possible I’m not going to let you leave the bed,” Eobard assured him, leaning down to nuzzle affectionately at Cisco’s neck.

“But I want to see what stuff’s like in the future!” Cisco protested, but he couldn’t keep the smile off his face as Eobard sought the place where he was ticklish and began to lavish attention there. “I wanna see everything!”

“And you will,” Eobard gave one last nip to the tickle spot and drew back to look Cisco in the eye. “You’re going to love it there, Cisco,” he said, eyes full of excitement. “With the technology of my time you’ll flourish like you never could here.”

Cisco shook his head in disbelief. “It seems like a dream,” he said.

“Oh, it’s very real,” Eobard laced their fingers together, then brought Cisco’s hand to his lips and kissed his fingers gently. “And nothing is going to prevent it from happening.”

***

Cisco’s next vibe came when he was out with the team.

They were at a club, most of them clustered around the bar. Barry and Iris were dancing, Barry a little embarrassingly, but both of them seemed to be having a good time. Caitlin was talking to Eddie, Detective West’s partner who Iris had invited along. Cisco had been surprised to learn that he was also Eobard’s ancestor, but Eobard didn’t like to talk about it and so Cisco hadn’t pressed the issue. He was a little concerned that he might prevent Eobard’s birth Marty Mcfly style, but Eobard had assured him that time wanted to take a specific shape, and it took a great deal of deliberate effort to do things like bring two people together who weren’t meant to be.

Cisco was sitting on Caitlin’s other side, watching Barry and Iris dance. Distracted by Barry’s ridiculous moves and how much they were clearly entertaining his fiance, Cisco groped blindly for the bowl of mixed nuts only to find that a hand was blocking the way. His fingertips knocked against what felt like Eddie’s hand, and suddenly the world went blue yet again.

_He was outside Jitters, the coffee shop where Iris had worked before she’d gotten her job at the newspaper. Across the street stood Barry, watching the courtyard outside the shop with an anguished expression. Cisco followed Barry’s gaze, looked where he was looking, and his breath caught in his throat._

_Standing a few feet away, in full view of Barry and the rest of the world, were Iris and Eddie. They were kissing, and no friendly peck on the cheek either, but a full opened mouthed kiss. A kiss between lovers._

_Iris looked up to see Barry standing there, watching them, and her face took on a distressed expression-_

Before Cisco could see anymore the vibe ended, and he was suddenly back in the club.

“Sorry,” said Eddie, smiling as he withdrew his hand.

Cisco shook his head dazedly. “No problem,” he said, staring at him with what he imagined must be a very strange expression.

“Cisco?” Caitlin asked worriedly. “Did you-”

“I have to go,” Cisco announced. “I’ll see you later, okay?”

He made for the door before she could answer, already pulling out his phone and dialing Eobard’s number.

“Cisco?” said Eobard curiously on the other end of the line. “Is something wrong?”

“We may have a problem,” Cisco told him, unable to keep the anxiety out of his voice.

Eobard’s tone was suddenly dead serious. “Tell me.”

“I think Iris might be cheating on Barry with Eddie,” Cisco said in a rush.

There was a pause, then-

“Did you see something?” Eobard asked calmly. “Did you see them together?”

“Yes, but, in a vibe,” Cisco explained. “I’ve seen the other timeline, but I’ve also seen the future in this timeline, so I don’t know which it is. Either way, it means that Iris could potentially have feelings for someone who isn’t Barry.”

“I see,” Eobard said gravely. “This does present a problem.”

“No kidding,” said Cisco, glancing nervously back at the club to make sure no one had followed him outside. “If Iris cheats on Barry, if he finds out she likes someone else, it could _break_  him! He’d feel like he wasn’t good enough for her, and that could blow his confidence out of the water. He might not be able to be the Flash anymore, and just _think_  of all the damage that could do to the timeline!”

“And our ability to return home,” Eobard added. “Cisco, I need you to listen to me very carefully.”

Cisco nodded, then realized that Eobard couldn’t see him and hummed his assent.

“Go back to the group,” Eobard instructed. “Behave as though nothing is wrong. Go home only when they do and do not mention your vibe to anyone.”

“But Iris-” Cisco protested.

“Let me worry about Iris,” Eobard ordered. “I’ll take care of it.”

“But-”

“I’ll take care of it,” Eobard repeated, firmer this time, and Cisco could do nothing but agree.

He would let Eobard handle it. Eobard always knew just what to do.

***

Getting Iris West alone was not difficult. All he had to do was wait for her and Barry to return to their apartment, then call Barry and send the Flash off on a pointless errand he none the less would never turn down. Once he saw Barry leave on the cameras he had installed in the apartment, it was a simple matter of donning the suit he so rarely wore these days and paying Iris a visit.

“Barry?” she asked, turning around when she felt the rush of wind created by a speedster. “Are you-”

Her voice died in her throat when she caught sight of him. He must have looked monstrous to her, the perfect reverse of her fiance, with his yellow suit and his glowing red eyes. Iris had not seen the Reverse-Flash before, but Barry had described him to the entire team after their first fight. She knew who she was facing.

“What do you want?” she demanded, with admirable courage.

Eobard didn’t answer her. There was no point, given what needed to happen next.

“Barry isn’t here,” Iris went on. “If you came looking for him-”

“No, Miss West,” Eobard corrected, stepping slowly towards her. “It’s you I came to see.”

“Why-” Iris began, but she didn’t get to finish her question. In the time it took her to blink her eyes Eobard had retrieved a knife from the kitchen and driven it into her heart.


	4. Chapter 4

Cisco had only just gone to bed, uneasy and knowing he likely wouldn’t sleep for some time, when his phone began to buzz and Barry’s face lit up the screen.

Cisco frowned, but swiped his finger to answer the call. “Barry?” he asked in confusion.

“It’s Iris,” Barry said, and he sounded nothing short of distraught. Cisco sat bolt upright, fear seizing his heart. Had they been too late? Had Iris and Eddie already started seeing each other? Had Barry already found out?

Cisco opened his mouth to offer some kind of consolation, something that would soothe the insecurities that were bound to be growing in Barry’s heart, but then Barry went on.

“She’s dead,” Barry sobbed, and Cisco’s blood went cold. “She’s dead, Cisco, she’s . . .” he trailed off, breath coming in ragged gasps against the phone.

Cisco was silent. He did not know what to say to Barry. He did not know what to think himself. He felt numb all over, like his brain was full of cotton and his body was packed in bubble wrap.

Eventually practicality overcame his paralysis. “Call the police,” he instructed, “call-”

“I already did,” Barry sniffled, “they’re on their way. Cisco can you call . . . everyone, and-”

“Of course,” Cisco cut him off, “I’ll get everyone there. Barry I . . . I’m so . . .”

Cisco couldn’t finish the sentence; he didn’t know what he could say that would make Barry feel the slightest bit better. There was nothing to be said, and so Barry made a small noise of understanding and Cisco hung up the phone.

He had a lot of people to call.

***

As Eobard had expected, it wasn’t difficult to pin the murder of Iris West on the Reverse-Flash. All he had to do was suggest it and Barry was off like a shot, talking at near inhuman speed about how the Man in Yellow had attacked him, threatened them all, and nearly killed his mother when Barry had been a child.

“He tried to kill my mom,” Barry spat savagely, watching as Iris’s body was carefully carried away. “Now he’s back to try and ruin my life again.”

“So it would appear,” Eobard agreed, watching Barry closely.

Satisfied that Barry was focussing his energies properly, Eobard turned his attention to Cisco. His boy hadn’t greeted him when he’d arrived, and so far had yet to even look at him. Cisco’s focus was on Barry, not that the speedster had noticed, and no matter how many times Barry refused to answer or acknowledge him Cisco continued to try to talk to him. Admittedly this was a trying time, but if Cisco should turn to anyone for comfort it should be Eobard, not _Barry Allen._

“Cisco,” Eobard called softly, wheeling his infernal chair over to where Barry had left Cisco standing alone.

Cisco turned to him, then looked immediately at the ground. “Dr. Wells,” he said shortly.

“How are you?” Eobard probed. He wasn’t sure how much Cisco had figured out by now, but he could tell that something had changed. Cisco was clever; he had worked _something_  out.

“I think you should be asking Barry that,” Cisco replied, still not looking at him.

After glancing around to see no one was watching, Eobard cautiously reached out a hand to lace their fingers together. However, the moment his fingers brushed the back of Cisco’s hand Cisco jerked away. At last he looked up at Eobard, and his eyes were full of pain and disbelief and just a touch of anger.

So, Cisco had deduced that much.

Eobard sighed, pushing his glasses out of the way to rub his eyes. “We should talk,” he requested simply.

Cisco nodded, but said nothing.

It took him longer than expected get his boy alone. To Eobard’s frustration Cisco seemed reluctant to leave Barry, and it was only after Barry had made arrangements for a hotel that he’d stopped offering up his own apartment for Barry’s use. Eobard hated the idea of Barry living in Cisco’s apartment: not only would it limit Cisco’s ability to come to the house while still keeping up the appearance that they were nothing more than mentor and student, it would give Barry Allen unobstructed access to Cisco and his life. That privilege was for Eobard, and Eobard alone.

Eventually though Barry sent everyone away, and Eobard was able to order Cisco to follow him back to the house. Cisco agreed without argument, which was a good sign, and Eobard got home a few minutes before Cisco, allowing him to be in bedroom getting changed by the time Cisco arrived.

“Cisco,” Eobard began, but before he could get any farther Cisco interrupted him.

“You killed Iris,” Cisco accused without preamble. His voice was shaking, and his eyes were wide and wet.

Eobard sighed and tossed his shirt toward the laundry basket. He faced Cisco bare-chested, in nothing but a pair of pajama pants, which always made it difficult for Cisco to argue with him. Tonight, however, it didn’t seem to be having the desired effect.

“I can see that you’re upset,” Eobard gentled, “but-”

“Upset?” Cisco echoed in disbelief. “You murdered someone, Eobard, of course I’m upset! I’m furious!”

As it always did, the use of his true name sent a shiver down Eobard’s spine. He’d never thought hearing his own name would become a fetish for him, but after so long pretending to be Harrison Wells hearing himself addressed properly had begun to excite him in itself.

Still, that left him nowhere with Cisco. Clearly his boy had become more attached to their team than Eobard had anticipated, and Iris’s death had hit him harder than expected. A small stab of jealousy shot painfully through his heart, but that wouldn’t help him get out of this.

“Consider the damage she could have done to the timeline,” Eobard insisted, “if she’d been allowed to rattle Barry’s confidence. Her death is a small price to pay for the good he can do.”

“You didn’t have to _kill_  her!” Cisco shouted back. “We could have found some other way!”

“What other way?” Eobard retorted, opening his arms in invitation. “What solution would you recommend?”

“We could have figured something out,” Cisco insisted. He placed a hand over his mouth, sniffling.

Eobard’s heart ached, as it always did at the sight of Cisco in pain. He’d had very little tolerance for his boy’s discomfort since the mental hospital, and being the source of that pain made his own pain even worse.

“I’m sorry,” he told Cisco, quite sincerely. He wished Cisco hadn’t figured it out; at times he was too smart for his own good.

“You’re sorry?” Cisco repeated incredulously. “You killed someone, then pinned it on the Reverse-Flash, and you’re _sorry_?”

So, Eobard thought, at least that much was still secret. The Reverse-Flash was still a villain, in Cisco’s eyes, but at least he hadn’t yet made the connection between him and Eobard. There was still time to warm him up to the idea.

“It will motivate Barry-” Eobard argued.

“ _Iris_  motivated Barry!” Cisco protested.

Eobard sighed. “You’re still thinking with your heart, Cisco. You need to look at the bigger picture; that’s what I need you for. You knew, and still know, why this was necessary.”

“That just makes it worse!” Cisco insisted. “You killed her because of me! This is my fault . . .” he trailed off, the tears finally spilling from his eyes to roll down his cheeks.

Before Cisco could protest Eobard was zipping over to him, taking the boy’s face in his hands and wiping away the tears with his thumbs as he let out a steady stream of gentle shushing noises. Cisco tried to pull away, an adorable pout on his face, but Eobard simply wrapped an arm around his waist and pulled him close, his other hand continuing to stroke the skin beneath Cisco’s eye. Cisco planted his hands on Eobard’s chest and tried to shove him away, but Eobard was bigger and stronger, kept his grip tight, and eventually Cisco stopped fussing and let himself be held.

Eobard wrapped his other arm around Cisco’s back and pulled the two of them tightly together, resting his chin on top of Cisco’s head.

“You didn’t do this,” Eobard told him quietly. “You are innocent, Cisco, that much I promise you.”

“I’m still here with you, even though you’re a murderer,” Cisco pointed out weakly.

Eobard smiled against his boy’s hair. Of course Cisco was still his. Eobard’s grip on him was strong. The boy had no power to escape.

“That’s because you know this is for the greater good,” Eobard reminded him gently. “If it will make you feel better, I’ll promise not to do it again.”

Cisco hesitated a moment, then nodded.

Eobard drew back, then placed a hand under Cisco’s chin to tilt his face up toward Eobard’s.

“I promise,” he said seriously, “I will try to avoid any more unnecessary death from now on. Is that acceptable to you?”

Cisco swallowed, eyes roving over Eobard’s face as though searching for something. Evidently he found it, because he nodded again.

In the blink of an eye they were on the bed, Cisco on his back with Eobard looming over him. Before Cisco could say anything Eobard sealed their lips together in a bruising kiss, and after a few moments of stillness Cisco began to reciprocate. Soon his was kissing back with equal fervor, and Eobard forced himself to break the kiss to begin raining feather-light kisses over his boy’s face.

“Let me make it up to you,” Eobard offered, low and hungry against Cisco’s ear.

“You can’t make up for this with, ah!” Cisco yelped as Eobard nipped playfully at his neck.

“What was that pet?” Eobard teased.

Cisco squirmed but said nothing, clearly still aware that Eobard would have his way no matter what the boy did. Perfect.

Eobard Thawne was nothing if not patient, and he was sure to display that patience as he slowly pealed away Cisco’s layers of clothing to expose warm brown skin to his lips and teeth. By the time Cisco lay naked in their bed he was panting with desire, a beautiful blush staining his cheeks and neck to travel all the way down to his chest.

“Gorgeous,” Eobard pronounced, coming back up for another kiss which Cisco gave freely. Another positive sign.

Cisco’s thighs parted easily as Eobard placed himself between them, slick fingers circling his pet’s entrance. He slid just one inside, seeking out the pleasure spot with practiced ease, and Cisco thrashed under the onslaught, already whining for more.

“Open for me, pretty boy,” Eobard commanded, and Cisco spread his legs wider, his hole loosening until another finger could slip inside.

Eobard took his time with the preparation, as he always did. The last thing he needed was Cisco to associate him with pain, and it was always a treat to listen to listen to Cisco’s lovely begging. As much as the sound of his own name had become a pleasure, nothing could compare to Cisco’s needy voice when he was desperate for Eobard’s cock.

“Please,” Cisco whined, rolling his hips to force the three fingers inside him deeper.

“Ask nicely,” Eobard instructed, carefully keeping his fingers away from the place that made Cisco light up inside. The boy was close enough already.

“Please, I need it,” Cisco replied, eyes glassy and far away.

“Please what?” Eobard prompted, coupling the question with a particularly rough thrust. “I know you can be more specific than that, clever boy.”

“F-fuck me,” Cisco stuttered. Even after all these years he still had trouble with asking for what he wanted, but he was much better than he had been. That first night, when he’d been only eighteen years old, he would rather have stopped where they were than give voice to his desires. Luckily for him, Eobard had been generous that time.

Back in the present, Eobard removed his fingers and replaced them with his cock. Cisco cried out at the initial penetration, but his legs wrapped instinctively around Eobard’s waist until the angle was perfect. Eobard started slow, but as his boy continued to pant and beg so prettily he couldn’t help but speed up. 

“Do you like it?” Eobard inquired when he could feel himself getting close. “Do you like it when I do this to you? Have you like this?”

Cisco nodded frantically, eyes closed.

“Look at me when I’m talking to you pet.”

Cisco opened his eyes, and Eobard could see how lost he was. Perfect.

“Do you love me?” Eobard asked next.

Cisco knew better than to nod again. “Yes,” he said aloud. “I love you.”

That alone was almost enough to send Eobard over the edge, but there was one more thing he needed before this was over.

He placed his lips beside Cisco’s ear, whispering his final question soft and intimate against the delicate shell.

“Do you forgive me?”

For a moment Cisco didn’t answer, his face scrunched up in distress, his eyes coming back into focus as his mind and body warred with each other.

Eobard lowered himself to his elbows, then moved one hand to Cisco’s cock, pumping it in time with the rhythm of his thrusts.

“Say it,” he commanded, “say your forgive me.”

Cisco whined but said nothing.

“Say it!” Eobard growled, punctuating the order with a particularly rough thrust, and Cisco arched off the bed with a cry.

“Yes!” he shouted. “Yes, I forgive you!”

Eobard kissed him, hard and deep, as he stroked the boy to completion. He fucked Cisco through his orgasm, then pulled out before he finished so he could spill himself over his boy’s stomach, groaning as he did so. There was something exceedingly primal in it which Eobard would normally have disdained, but Cisco never failed to bring out his possessive side.

“Thank you,” he whispered, once he was laying on his side and kissing Cisco’s sweaty neck in the afterglow of their lovemaking. “I knew you’d understand.”

Cisco didn’t answer him, but his eyes were closed, so Eobard simply assumed he had fallen asleep.

***

As much as Cisco hated to admit it, Eobard had been right. Under the impression that Iris had been killed by the Reverse-Flash Barry redoubled his efforts to get faster, determined that the next time they met he would avenge her death. He was less happy, but more driven, and while the logical part of Cisco’s brain knew that it was a good thing he couldn’t help but feel bad about it. Barry was his friend, and even though Cisco would eventually leave him behind, it was still hard to see him in pain.

Cisco tried to do whatever he could for Barry, although there wasn’t much to be done. Nothing could soothe the ache of a broken heart besides time, and time was something they didn’t have with an evil speedster on their tails. He didn’t know why the Reverse-Flash was so bent on screwing up the past, but Eobard’s speed was too damaged to help Barry fight. Barry was the only one who could beat him.

He could tell that it annoyed Eobard, how much attention he was giving Barry. If there was one thing Cisco knew about Eobard’s character it was his possessiveness, and he didn’t like his prized pet fawning over someone else. It made Cisco feel a little guilty, after everything Eobard had done for him, but he couldn’t feel too guilty, knowing what Eobard had done to Iris. In the end though he was doing it for Barry, not to punish Eobard, so he put the issue from his mind.

Barry seemed grateful for Cisco’s support. The two of them began to spend more time together, alone or with Caitlin, and despite his continued closeness with Eobard Cisco couldn’t help but enjoy that time. He’d never really had many friends, so it was something of a new experience for him, to be accepted like this. It made him feel almost as good as Eobard’s praise, but not quite.

Then, about a month or so after Iris’s death, everything fell apart.

Cisco had been working late in the lab, in his own workroom despite the fact that the rest of the building was empty. Everyone else had already gone home, and Cisco was gearing up to do the same when he walked past the cortex on his way out. Through the double doors he could see Barry sitting in one of the swivel chairs, staring off into space with a troubled expression.

“Barry?” Cisco called, entering the cortex with slow and careful steps. The lights were low, and Barry seemed to be alone.

Barry looked up at the sound of Cisco’s voice, then smiled. “Hey,” he replied, “just the guy I was looking to talk to.”

“What’s up?” Cisco asked, taking another swivel chair and scooting over to sit facing Barry.

“I’ve just been thinking,” Barry said vaguely, “about Iris.”

Cisco lowered his eyes. He didn’t know what to say to Barry about Iris, so he waited for Barry to go on.

“You know, before we were going out, she was my best friend,” Barry recalled. “Ever since we were kids we’ve been close. Had been close.”

“I’m sorry,” Cisco told him, in a small voice.

Barry shook his head. “Not your fault, man,” he waved that away, and Cisco’s stomach rolled with guilt. “It’s just, we had history. A connection. That’s something I’m never going to get back.”

“So, what did you wanna talk to me about?” Cisco inquired tentatively.

“I’ve just been thinking,” Barry repeated, looking off into space rather than at Cisco, “about how you didn’t get your powers from the accelerator. How you’ve had them your whole life.”

“Since I was twelve,” Cisco corrected, and Barry nodded.

“Well, the Reverse-Flash has been trying to ruin my life since I was eleven,” Barry pointed out, “so I’d say we’re pretty much even.”

Cisco nodded. He gave Barry a shaky smile, which Barry returned.

“The point is, we’ve both been in this mess way longer than anyone else,” Barry explained. “So, there’s kind of a connection between us too.”

Cisco frowned. “What are you saying?”

“I’m saying,” Barry told him, rolling his chair closer to Cisco’s, “that I just lost something I’ll never get back. So, I guess, what I’m looking for, is a connection.”

He leaned forward, and for a moment Cisco didn’t realize what he was doing. Then Barry’s eyes dropped to Cisco’s lips, and suddenly Cisco reared back so hard his chair rolled a good three feet backwards.

“Cisco?” Barry asked in confusion as Cisco leaped to his feet.

“I have to go,” Cisco announced, not looking at him, and clutching tightly at the strap of his bag he made for the door.

Barry, of course, zipped in front of him to block his way. “I’m sorry,” he said hurriedly, “I just, I thought, it just seemed like you were into me, and-”

“We’re _friends_ ,” Cisco insisted, backing away.

Barry gave a lopsided smile. “Me and Iris were friends,” he pointed out.

“I-” Cisco stuttered, “I’m seeing someone.”

Barry looked nothing short of horrified. “Oh my god,” he said, “I didn’t, why don’t I know this about you?”

“It doesn’t matter,” Cisco shook his head vigorously. “I have to go.”

“Cisco!” Barry called after him, but Cisco was already fleeing the cortex.

***

The thing about the vibes was that he didn’t always know what triggered them. Sometimes they just came to him, out of absolutely nowhere. He’d be doing nothing relevant to what he saw, like watching a movie, or typing on his computer, or hiding in his workroom trying to avoid Barry for the third day in a row, and they would just hit.

For example, the one he was currently having.

_It was surreal, watching the version of himself inside the vibe while he stood off to one side. He was in Barry’s lab at the CCPD, and standing across from him was Detective West._

_“You think Dr. Wells killed Barry’s mom?” said the other Cisco in disbelief. He laughed as he said it, but he was clearly uncomfortable with the very thought._

_“No way,” Other Cisco went on. “He didn’t even know Barry then, why would he kill his mom?”  
_

_“I don’t know yet,” admitted Detective West, and Cisco wanted to smack him for making accusations like that. “But I do know that Wells keeps secrets.”_

Cisco would have liked to see more, but that was where the vibe ended. He opened his eyes to find himself clutching the edge of the worktable, leaning heavily on it and breathing hard. His head ached like a vibe hadn’t caused it to in years, and immediately he had to stumble to his chair and sit down.

That had clearly been the previous timeline, the one where Eobard had failed in his mission. Cisco had no earthly reason to go to Barry’s lab with Detective West. The detective would never trust him with suspicions about Dr. Wells, given how close everyone knew the two of them were.

There was also the fact that, in the world of the vibe, Barry’s mother had been dead since before Barry had known Dr. Wells.

Cisco breathed deeply and tried to think. If, in the previous timeline, Detective West had become suspicious of Dr. Wells, then it was likely he’d told Barry, and this might have sowed the seeds of distrust. If Barry didn’t trust Eobard then he might not take his advice, might have done something reckless when Eobard would have counseled caution, and if he had died . . .

Looking back on all his vibes up to now, Cisco couldn’t think of a single one that had showed him something more likely to be the cause of Eobard’s failure. He needed to tell Eobard right away, needed to warn him, and yet something was holding him back. Remembering Detective Wests’s sure and steady tone he couldn’t help but think of Iris, and Eobard’s willingness to write off her death as an acceptable loss. He remembered the time traveler that had almost assuredly been in Barry’s house, that had, in the alternate timeline, apparently killed Barry’s mother.

Cisco shook himself. That was ridiculous. Eobard was working for the greater good, trusting Cisco to help him. There was no way Cisco could keep this from him.

He arrived at the house at his usual time, greeted his lover as he normally did, and they proceeded to have a perfectly typical evening. They ordered take-out, and Cisco answered the door so that Eobard didn’t have to be in his chair a moment longer than he had to. Cisco set the table and they ate together, talking about work and science and movies and anything else that came to mind.

Then, halfway through the meal, Eobard called him out.

“You’re doing it again,” he said, setting down his chopsticks.

Cisco swallowed his mouthful of orange chicken and tried to look innocent. “Doing what?”

“Hiding something,” Eobard clarified. “There’s something you’re not telling me. What is it?”

Cisco looked down at his food. He wanted to say it, wanted to tell Eobard the truth, but for some reason the words just wouldn’t come.

Eobard hummed. “I see,” he said, picking up his chopsticks again.

“What?” Cisco asked, surprised and a little worried. “You see what?”

Eobard chewed his mouthful of Beijing beef and swallowed. “I’ve made you distrust me.”

“No!” Cisco protested automatically, then winced. “I mean-”

“It’s alright,” Eobard interrupted, smiling reassuringly. “I understand. I’ve earned this, and now I have to live with it.”

“Live with what?” Cisco demanded. “Eobard, it’s not like that!”

“No,” Eobard held up a hand, “I understand Cisco. I don’t deserve your trust, not after-”

“I do trust you!” Cisco insisted. “Really, I do! It’s nothing big, I just had a vibe.”

“And what did you see?” Eobard wanted to know.

Cisco swallowed. There was no backing out now, not if he wanted to prove that he truly loved Eobard.

“Detective West,” he said, “he was telling me, alternate timeline me, that he doesn’t trust you. He suspected you of . . .  keeping secrets.”

There, that was enough. That was plenty of information for Eobard to go on, without revealing the other details that he’d learned. He didn’t honestly think Eobard had hurt Nora Allen, in this timeline or any other, but he would just as soon not bring it up.

Eobard nodded slightly, staring off into space.

“So?” Cisco prompted. “What are you going to do?”

Eobard smiled, and there was a touch of condescension in it as he reached out to tuck Cisco’s hair behind his ear. “What do you think?” he asked, amused. “I’m going to talk to him.”

“What are you going to say?” Cisco asked, frowning. 

Eobard’s smile widened, and his eyes twinkled in the way that meant that Cisco was being cute.

“I am simply going to tell him the truth,” Eobard informed him. "You had a vibe, it worried you, I’d like to clear up any misunderstandings in order to soothe your fears.”

Cisco gave a relieved sigh. That sounded reasonable. It _was_  reasonable. It was a simple, easy fix, and then a major threat to the timeline would be removed. Eobard wouldn’t even have to lie.

“In fact,” Eobard went on, “why don’t I deal with it right now?”

“What?” Cisco choked. “Now?”

“Why not?” Eobard laughed. “Tell me honestly, will you sleep better knowing that I’m handling this?”

Cisco nodded.

“Then that’s my story,” Eobard explained. “I’ll go to Detective West and explain that, for your peace of mind, this should be cleared up immediately.”

Cisco could think of no argument, so once they had finished dinner Eobard left for the West house. It wasn’t that late, he reasoned as he lay awake in bed. It wasn’t so ridiculous to be going to the house at this hour, especially if he was doing it so Cisco could sleep better. Eobard had told him not to wait up, but no matter how hard he tried he couldn’t seem to close his eyes. Something inside him was tied in knots, and he felt slightly sick.

Maybe it was for the best that Eobard was doing this now after all.

Cisco still wasn’t asleep when Eobard returned, hours after he’d first left the house. He was laying quietly though, so when Eobard sped into the room and changed rapidly into sleep clothes he likely didn’t think Cisco was awake. He crawled into bed, then leaned over Cisco to stroke his hair and kiss his temple.

“I guess it went well then?” Cisco opened his eyes, and Eobard started in surprise. “Tell me it went well,” Cisco pleaded when Eobard didn’t answer him. “Tell me-”

“Cisco,” Eobard interrupted, and Cisco raised himself into a sitting position as Eobard kneeled beside him.

Eobard looked down, clearly considering, and Cisco’s heart clenched painfully.

“Please,” he begged, “please just tell me he’s not-”

“He drew his gun on me, Cisco,” Eobard cut him off. “He tried to kill me.”

“You can catch bullets!” Cisco protested.

“And then he’d have known my secret,” Eobard protested. “He attacked me, I defended myself.”

“ _Dios,”_ Cisco buried his head in his hands.

“No,” Eobard insisted, pulling Cisco’s hands away, touching their foreheads together. “Cisco, Cisco look at me.”

“How could you?” Cisco sobbed, trying to pull away, but Eobard’s grip on his wrists was strong, holding him still.

“I had no choice,” Eobard told him plaintively. “I promise, I had no choice.”

Cisco sniffled. Tears were rolling down his face, and with both hands trapped he couldn’t wipe them away. Eobard took both Cisco’s wrists in one hand and use the other to cup his jaw, tilting his head up so Eobard could look into his eyes.

“Tell me you believe me,” he ordered.

Cisco took in a shuddering breath. “I believe you,” he said in a small voice, without letting himself dwell on whether or not it was true. It was what Eobard needed to hear.

Eobard kissed his forehead, then gathered Cisco into his arms. “I need you,” he whispered against Cisco’s hair. “I’m not letting you go, my Cisco. Tell me you’ll stay with me.”

“Of course,” Cisco said automatically, though his voice sounded weak and tired to his own ears. “I’ll stay with you.”

Cisco continued to cry into Eobard’s shirt, breathing deeply through his nose to try and calm himself down. Eventually the scent of Eobard’s skin began to soothe him, and he felt himself growing less tense and more tired. Dimly he felt Eobard laying him down, pressing up against his back as he wrapped an arm around Cisco to keep him close. It only took a few more deep breaths before Cisco dropped into an exhausted sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'd like to take this opportunity to remind you all that eobard literally rescued cisco from a mental institution. he's had five years to program cisco not to question him at all. he's been cisco's entire support network for half a decade. consider this before you pass judgement on my baby.


	5. Chapter 5

Detective West was never formally declared a missing person. Eddie tried to report him missing, but a letter of resignation, along with his badge and gun, somehow turned up on the Captain’s desk. Everyone assumed that it was about Iris, that her death had left him too depressed to go on. No one begrudged him for quitting, or for leaving the city, even without saying goodbye.

Barry and Detective West had never been very close, despite Iris’s love for both of them. They’d leaned on each other somewhat after her death, but Detective West was really just their friend on the police force, and not a true member of Team Flash. Eddie would work just as well as their contact in the police department, as he knew that Barry was the Flash too. All in all, his loss wasn’t a crippling blow.

The others seemed to notice that Cisco was taking it harder than the rest of them though. Caitlin tried to spend more time with him, but he couldn’t help pulling away. Barry clearly wanted to help, but he seemed reluctant to try and get too close to Cisco. Even Eddie, who was still reeling from his partner’s sudden disappearance, tried to cheer Cisco up, but there was nothing to be done.

“I didn’t realize you and Joe had gotten so close,” Eddie admitted.

Cisco shrugged. “I’m just tired of losing people, that’s all.”

Despite this, life continued on as normal. Barry continued his efforts to try and get faster. They waited for the Reverse-Flash to make a move, but he seemed to have gone dormant for the time being. The Flash and Vibe protected the city, spending hours on patrol and even more time training to fight around each other. So far they’d both managed not to trip over the other during a fight, but it only took one supervillain with the bright idea to pit them against each other for their luck to go south. At Eobard’s insistence they did team training daily, and with practice they were steadily improving.

Then, while they were doing combat drills one afternoon, Cisco discovered a new ability.

He’d been distracted all week, so the wonder was that it hadn’t happened sooner. They were going through a maneuver they’d done a hundred times, but Cisco was off his game, and that meant that his aim was off. He fired a vibration blast too early, too soon for Barry to get out of the way, and the blast hit Barry full in the chest.

“Oh my god,” Cisco yelled, running over to where Barry was sprawled on the floor. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” Barry insisted, taking the hand that Cisco offered to help him up. “You just caught me off guard.”

“I’m so sorry,” Cisco said anxiously, hands flitting nervously over Barry’s chest as though to take back the damage they’d done.

“Really, I’m fine,” Barry laughed, then winced and rubbed his chest. “Man that really packs a punch doesn’t it?”

“Walk it off Mr. Allen,” Eobard said impatiently from the raised platform where he was watching them.

Unfortunately, it seemed that ‘walking it off’ was all that Barry could do. When they went to try the maneuver again Barry started to run, but after a few steps his stumbled to a halt, looking at his own feet in confusion.

“What’s wrong?” Cisco asked nervously, moving closer to him.

“I can’t use my speed,” Barry said in alarm. “I, I can’t even feel it.”

Immediately Cisco turned to Eobard. The Flash, and more importantly the Flash’s _speed_ , was crucial to not only repairing the timeline, but also to their return to the future. If Barry had lost his powers, all because Cisco had made one stupid mistake, this could jeopardize everything they’d worked for. He expected to see panic, confusion, unbridled fury in Eobard’s face, but was surprised to find only the ghost of a smile as Eobard watched Barry struggle to activate his speed.

Caitlin insisted that they all go back to the cortex and hook Barry up to the sensors, but by the time they had Barry on the treadmill his speed had returned. Caitlin and Cisco both breathed sighs of relief, but Eobard didn’t seem particularly surprised by either the loss of Barry’s speed or its return.

“Did you know?” Cisco asked later that evening as they were getting ready for bed.

“Did I know what?” Eobard asked, coming up behind Cisco to wrap his arms around the shorter man’s waist, preventing him from putting on a shirt.

“About my powers,” Cisco clarified, trying to squirm away and failing. Eobard had gotten a lot more tactile recently. “What they did to Barry. You didn’t seem surprised, you seemed-”

“Pleased?” Eobard speculated. “Yes, I did know you had that particular power. I’m always happy to see you take your abilities to new heights.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Cisco asked, turning in Eobard’s embrace. Eobard tolerated the movement until Cisco found himself facing the older man.

“It didn’t seem very pressing,” Eobard said noncommittally. One hand stayed wrapped around Cisco’s waist and the other one slid up to tangle in his hair.

“We could use it against the Reverse-Flash,” Cisco explained, even as he had to do so against Eobard’s lips.

The price for Eobard’s answer was a long, leisurely kiss. “When has the Reverse-Flash ever attacked you?”

“He might,” Cisco pointed out, turning his head to avoid Eobard’s lips again. “He probably will.”

“Well, now you’ll be prepared,” Eobard concluded, sounding unconcerned. “Now, on to more-”

“Actually I’m really tired,” Cisco protested, trying to push Eobard away. He didn’t budge, and the arm around his waist tightened just a little.

“Then I suppose I’ll have to do most of the work,” Eobard chuckled against his ear.

Cisco opened his mouth to say . . . something, but Eobard took the opportunity to capture his lips in a heated kiss, and by the time he came up for air they were already on the bed, Eobard looming over him.

“Are you ready, pet?” Eobard asked, smiling wickedly down at him.

Cisco smiled wanly, knowing there was only one possible answer. “Yes, Eobard.”

***

There were days when Barry badly missed the ability to get drunk. It would be nice to go out with Cisco and Caitlin and spend money on having a good time, rather than on small amounts of useless liquid that didn’t even taste good. It would be nice to unwind after a long day of fighting, let the stress melt away under the subtle spell of inebriation. It would be nice to have something to take Iris off his mind, if only for a little while.

What Barry missed most about getting drunk though, was the ability to blame things on the fact that he was drunk. Had he been able to get drunk on the night he’d planned to make a move on Cisco he almost certainly would have had a sip or two of liquid courage, and then he would have been able to write the whole thing off as a drunken mistake. Maybe then Cisco wouldn’t hate him so much.

Not that he was under the impression that Cisco _really_ hated him. They were still friends, still partners, and they still went out and had fun with Caitlin and Eddie, but they’d lost the easy closeness they’d once had. Cisco was colder with him, more withdrawn, and he still hadn’t brought up this mysterious person he was apparently dating again. Some part of Barry wondered if Cisco hadn’t invented the person just to have an excuse to turn Barry down, and that thought made him slightly sick.

Had he really been so pushy, so out of line, that Cisco had felt he needed to make up a significant other just to avoid Barry?

Barry tried to put that thought from his mind. All he could do now was be the best friend he could be for Cisco, and he threw himself into doing just that. It was undeniable that Cisco was pulling away from him though, pulling away from everyone, and it had only gotten worse since Joe’s disappearance. More than once Barry wondered if Joe had been the mysterious boyfriend, if he’d abandoned Cisco along with the rest of his ties to Central City when he’d left. He tried to talk to Cisco about it, but whenever anyone brought up Joe Cisco slammed shut like a door in the face.

Just when Barry was beginning to think he’d lost Cisco’s trust for good though, Cisco gave him something he’d never given Barry before. It was something he gave no one else, not even Caitlin; only Dr. Wells, who’d been his savior, had ever been trusted with this.

One afternoon, when Barry was nearly out the door of STAR Labs, Cisco told him about one of his vibes.

“I just don’t want Dr. Wells to worry about it,” Cisco told him shyly, clutching at the strap of his messenger bag and not looking Barry in the eye.

“Of course,” Barry nodded seriously, “I understand completely. You know you can tell me anything Cisco.”

Cisco smiled nervously, and Barry did his best to answer it with a blinding grin.

“I just . . . I saw the newspaper where Iris used to work,” Cisco confessed, lowering his eyes.

Barry’s heart throbbed painfully at the mention of Iris, but he nodded for Cisco to go on.

“There was a reporter,” Cisco explained. “His desk said Mason Bridge. He was writing an article about Dr. Wells. It . . . wasn’t nice.”

Barry thought for a moment. Cisco and Dr. Wells were extremely close, as could only be expected of two people in their situation. If someone had rescued Barry at the most vulnerable point in his life he thought he might have had a similar closeness with that person, would have stuck by them even if the whole city had turned on them. He couldn’t blame Cisco for being troubled by the vibe, or for not wanting to tell Dr. Wells about it.

“Okay,” said Barry, voice full of determination. “I’ll handle it.”

Cisco looked up at him in surprise. “You will?”

“Of course,” Barry laughed. “Dr. Wells is my friend. _You’re_ my friend; if this is bothering you then of course I’ll take care of it.”

Cisco released a breath he seemed to have been holding, smiling at Barry in relief. “Thank you,” he said, then hid his grin behind a hand. “I mean, just, thank you!”

Barry beamed at him, feeling truly happy for the first time since the night he’d tried to kiss his best friend. He and Cisco could still be friends, and Barry would be the best friend anyone could ever ask for. All he had to do was deal with Mason Bridge.

Iris hadn’t worked at Central City Picture News for very long, but Barry had come to see her so often that no one batted an eye when he walked in. Mason Bridge had been Iris’s mentor; she hadn’t liked him but she’d been assigned to work with him, and it didn’t surprise Barry in the least to learn that he was writing judgmental articles about people. He found Bridge at his desk, tapping away his keyboard with eyes fixed on the screen.

“Hey,” called Barry, just to get his attention, and Bridge looked up. “I hear you’re writing an article about Dr. Harrison Wells.”

“Yeah?” said Bridge, looking unimpressed. “What about it?”

Barry shrugged. “I just wanted to let you know that you’re wrong about him,” he said. “He’s a good guy. He’s trying to help people.”

“Right,” Bridge replied dismissively, going back to his work.

“I’m serious man,” Barry said, leaning forward. He tried to see what was on the screen, but Bridge turned the monitor away from him and then glared.

“I get the your girlfriend had guts kid,” he said, “but that doesn’t make you a reporter.”

“You don’t-” Barry began, but Bridge cut him off.

“Look, kid,” Bridge began, “I’m a busy man. You don’t want me to run my story on Wells. You got any proof that I’m wrong?”

Barry opened his mouth, then closed it again. He didn’t really have any proof, at least none that he could show without also outing himself as the Flash.

Bridge rolled his eyes. “Yeah, that’s what I thought,” he said, turning back to his work.

Barry wanted to say something else. He wanted to say something clever and cutting that would prove Bridge wrong, show that he didn’t understand the situation at all. In the end though, he could come up with nothing, so he turned and walked dejectedly out of Central City Picture News.

***

Eobard had wondered if perhaps the hidden cameras he’d placed at the newspaper office were still necessary. It was only Iris who had made the place relevant, and with her out of the way none of his little pawns ventured there anymore. Still he left them up, more out of caution than anything. More information was always better than less, after all.

He found himself grateful for his own foresight when he saw Barry making his way into the office. He could think of no reason Barry should be there; it had been months since Iris’s death and he knew none of her coworkers well. With this in mind, Eobard turned up the sound.

_“Hey,” called the Barry on the screen, and Bridge looked up. “I hear you’re writing an article about Dr. Harrison Wells.”  
_

_“Yeah?” said Bridge. “What about it?”  
_

_“I just wanted to let you know that you’re wrong about him,” Barry replied. “He’s a good guy. He’s trying to help people.”_

Eobard seethed with rage. As encouraging as it was that Barry Allen was now vouching for him, he could think of only one place he might have come by that information without Iris telling him about the goings-on at the paper. Cisco had clearly had a vibe, and rather than coming to Eobard with it, he had told _Barry Allen_.

Something ugly bubbled up in his chest as he thought about Cisco and Barry together. He pictured his boy’s sweet lips whispering in the Flash’s ear and his blood boiled. Cisco should not be trusting Barry with his visions. He should only ever trust Eobard with them, and the fact that he had shared something that had been just for the two of them with _Barry Allen_ made Eobard’s lips curl into a snarl. As if he needed another reason to hate the Flash.

Eobard Thawne was no fool. He knew that Cisco had been pulling away from him, and he knew why it was happening. Cisco had gotten too attached to this place, to these people, and he had forgotten that the truth was they had all been dead for centuries. _When_ they returned to the future Cisco would have to leave all of them behind, and the fact that their deaths troubled him so much made it obvious that he needed a reminder.

Well, if that was what he needed, then Eobard would remind him.

First though, he had to deal with Mason Bridge.

Being the dedicated reporter that he was Bridge had stayed late in the office to work on his article. There was a storm outside, rain driving against the roof and the occasional flash of lightning illuminating the windows. The lights were almost all out, everyone else had gone home, and Bridge was alone. After one particularly loud rumble of thunder Bridge’s desk lamp went out, and grumbling under his breath he began fiddling with it, paying no attention to his surroundings

“ **Harrison Wells,** ” Eobard began, in his deep Reverse-Flash voice.

Bridge leaped to his feet, staring around.

“ **What do you know about him?** ” Eobard continued, and Bridge whirled to face him.

Before he could answer Eobard hit him with an uppercut, the speed behind the hit sending him flying across the room. A desk collapsed when he knocked into it, and his momentum sent him rolling underneath.

As he began to crawl out, panting, Eobard zipped across the room.

“ **What do you know?** ” he repeated, but as Bridge raised his hands in supplication suddenly Eobard felt something hit him on his left shoulder, sending him stumbling to the side. His body stopped vibrating, and as he reached for his speed to resume the vibration he suddenly found that he couldn’t feel the speed force anymore.

His speed was gone.

Both Bridge and Edobard looked around, to see a lone silhouette standing in the doorway. The figure had a messenger bag hung across one shoulder, long dark hair brushing against his neck, and a pair of luminous blue sunglasses glowing in the dark.

Cisco darted forward, reaching out a hand to help Bridge to his feet. “Run!” he ordered, and Bridge didn’t need to be told twice; he took off like a shot, leaving Vibe and the Reverse-Flash to face each other.

Eobard could feel his speed buzzing to return, but it wasn’t quite strong enough yet. He would be without it for a few moments more, which meant that he needed to buy time. Vibe would not be persuaded by the Reverse-Flash; he would keep blasting until Eobard fell unconscious. Cisco, however, could be persuaded.

Eobard removed his cowl.

Cisco’s outstretched hand dropped to his side. “You?” he whispered.

“You must have suspected this,” Eobard said, raising both hands as he took a tentative step forward, and then another. “Why else would you be here?”

“I came to talk to Mason Bridge!” Cisco protested. “To tell him not to run his story! I came for you!”

“Oh my sweet boy,” Eobard cooed, swiftly closing the distance between them even without his speed. When he reached for Cisco however the boy jerked away, stumbling back a few steps and putting his hands back up in preparation to fire another blast.

“Don’t touch me,” Cisco warned, flexing his fingers, and Eobard stopped. He could feel the lightning crackling in his veins, but it wasn’t ready quite yet.

“Cisco please,” Eobard said softly, plaintively. “Let me explain.”

“Explain?” Cisco repeated incredulously. “You’re the Reverse-Flash! It’s been you, this whole time!”

“And this whole time it’s been necessary,” Eobard insisted gently. “I didn’t want to burden you with this, but Cisco I _know_ you can understand.”

Cisco sobbed. Eobard couldn’t see his eyes behind his glasses, but he could almost taste the salt of Cisco’s tears in the air. He gritted his teeth, wishing he’d had more _time._

“I know you can understand why I needed to do this,” Eobard told him.

“No,” Cisco shook his head. “I can’t.”

At that precise moment, Eobard felt his speed return.

“Then I suppose it’s a good thing you I don’t need you too,” Eobard said, narrowing his eyes in disappointment. Then he let them glow red. “ **Not just yet, anyway.** ”

Before Cisco could fire off another blast, before he could even move, Eobard had zipped behind him. He seized Cisco around the waist, and a small tap to the back of the head knocked him unconscious. Then Eobard replaced his cowl, slung his pet over one shoulder, and returned to STAR Labs.

He had a lot of work to do.


	6. Chapter 6

When Cisco woke up, he didn’t know where he was. It seemed to be a small white room, slightly curved, with bumps on the walls like massive braille, but he had no memory of coming here and no idea where ‘here’ might be in relationship to anything else. The back of his head ached and was tender to the touch, but he didn’t remember hitting it on anything.

He stood up shakily and looked around. There was some kind of podium rising out of the floor off to one side, but he couldn’t see any door or means of entrance. Unease settled over him, and he thought back to the last thing he could remember to try and figure out how he’d gotten here.

He’d had a vibe, that a reporter at Iris’s old workplace was writing a story on Harrison Wells. He hadn’t wanted to tell Eobard about it, so instead he’d told Barry. Barry hadn’t had any luck getting the reporter to scrap his story, so Cisco had resolved to talk to him.

Cisco shook his head, unable to remember any more. He felt like he’d just found out something, something important, but he couldn’t remember what. He had to get out of this room, back to STAR Labs so he could go walk himself through his day and hopefully remember his discovery. In desperation he began to feel along the unbroken walls, looking for a switch or something that might reveal a hidden door, and as his hand pressed against a section of wall it parted like a puzzle. What it revealed wasn’t a door though.

Cisco stepped back until he hit the opposite wall, a hand over his mouth to stop himself from screaming. There, in an alcove, was displayed the Reverse-Flash suit.

Suddenly everything came flooding back to him. Cisco had gone to Central City Picture News to confront Mason Bridge, but had found him being attacked by the Reverse-Flash. Cisco had taken his speed, but then he’d removed his mask to reveal . . .

Eobard.

Suddenly the wall to Cisco’s left opened like the alcove had, revealing a stretch of familiar hallway. Into the little white room stepped Eobard, and immediately the wall closed again behind him.

Cisco stepped back as far as he could, putting as much distance as possible between them.”You’re him,” he said quietly. “The Reverse-Flash.”

“I didn’t mean for you to find out like this,” Eobard replied, just as quietly. “I wanted time, to warm you up to the idea. To make you understand.”

Cisco shook his head. There was no way he could ever understand this.

“When we trapped the Reverse-Flash at Christmas,” he began instead, “you almost died. You weren’t him.”

“You understand the concept of a speed mirage, Cisco,” Eobard told him patiently. “I had a little help from a hologram, but you know perfectly well it’s possible for a speedster to appear to be in two places at once.”

Cisco brought both hands up to rub his temples. He was feeling lightheaded, and Eobard’s concerned expression did nothing but make this more surreal.

“You were there that night, in Barry’s house,” Cisco realized. “You tried to kill Barry’s mom. It was you who changed the timeline, not some evil time traveler trying to stop you.”

“I was not going to kill Nora,” Eobard shook his head. He looked oddly tired. “I had no intention of harming her. I was there to kill Barry.”

“Why?” Cisco demanded. “You said he was crucial to the timeline, to fixing what made the future so bad that you had to change it!”

“He _is_ what made the future so terrible I had to change it,” Eobard’s lip curled in distaste. “I don’t expect you to understand right now, not without more time to explain, but know that the future Barry Allen creates with his ceaseless heroism is one utterly abhorrent to me.”

“You and how many others?” Cisco challenged.

“People will accept the new order,” Eobard said lightly, and that was as good of an answer as anything. “Once they have forgotten the Flash.”

“Then why help him?” Cisco asked desperately, feeling almost like he’d found a hole in Eobard’s explanation, like he’d found proof that this was all some sick joke. “Why help him become a hero if that just creates a world you can’t stand?”

“I’ve told you this before,” said Eobard, and there was a note of condescension in his voice. “He is the key to our return home. My speed is too damaged to time travel, Cisco, he’s our only means of returning to the future.”

“A future you hate!” Cisco protested.

“A future that is none the less preferable to this time period,” Eobard said in distaste. “Besides, this time I’ll have something I didn’t before.”

A fond smile spread across Eobard’s face. “A means to defeat the Flash.”

Cisco’s stomach dropped. “Me.”

“There’s my clever boy,” Eobard praised.

“This is why you chose me,” Cisco realized, “why you were bringing me to the future; you wanted a weapon against Barry. Everything we had, everything we were, was just so that you could use me to-”

“No, Cisco,” Eobard zipped forward, directly into Cisco’s personal space. “Pet, how can you think that?”

Cisco lurched back until he hit the wall, throwing his hands up defensively, and Eobard paused. “I’ve never lied to you, Cisco,” Eobard insisted. “I swear to you, whatever ulterior motives I may have had, the feelings I expressed to you were and are quite real.”

“You honestly expect me to believe that?” Cisco demanded. He could feel tears prickling in his eyes, but he refused to let them fall. He wouldn’t cry. Not this time.

“You can believe what you like, pet-”

“I’m not your pet!” Cisco shouted. “I’m not your pawn or your weapon or anything else of yours!”

Again Eobard sped into Cisco’s personal space, crowding him up against the wall. Cisco struggled, but Eobard pinned both his wrists above his head, then took hold of Cisco’s chin roughly, forcing him to meet Eobard’s gaze.

“Cisco,” he said, with forced patience, “I cannot, and will not lose you. You mean far too much to me for that.”

Cisco glared, and Eobard sighed wearily.

“I had hoped for this to be a pleasant surprise, but I think I’ve found a way to persuade Barry to open our way to the future-”

“I’ll never go with you!” Cisco spat.

“-and nothing is going to prevent that from happening,” Eobard concluded. With that he released Cisco’s wrists and sped out of the room, the wall closing seamlessly behind him.

Immediately Cisco ran to the stretch of wall that opened and began to run his hands along it. No matter where he touched the door wouldn’t budge, and in desperation he began to bang his fists on it, but that didn’t work either. He stepped back and fired a vibration blast, which didn’t even leave a dent. Letting out a scream of frustration he kicked at the wall, but that earned him nothing but a sore toe.

Cisco collapsed to the floor, finally letting the tears spill out. He was trapped. Eobard, his lover of five years, was an evil murdering psycho. Barry was about to open a portal to the future, through which Eobard would take Cisco in order to force him to kill the Flash.

Cisco shook himself. No, it couldn’t end like this. He had to find a way out! He began to look around the room, at everything it contained. He stood up and walked over to the Reverse-Flash suit, wondering if it had pockets. It was a long shot, but if this mouse trap had a key . . .

As his fingers brushed against the material of the suit, Cisco’s world went blue.

_Cisco had been to Barry’s house only once, but he he’d seen enough to recognize the living room. Barry’s mother, Nora, was sitting on the floor as two shades of lightning, red and yellow, swirled around her like a storm._

_“Barry!” she called, and Cisco turned to see a little boy standing in the door to the hallway, yelling for his mother. Barry’s younger self.  
_

_Suddenly something flashed past Cisco, and in a blur of yellow lightning young Barry was gone._

_There was a roar of rage behind him, and Cisco turned back to Nora to see the Reverse-Flash standing before her. In his hand was a knife, which he was driving straight into her heart._

Cisco gasped as he emerged from the vision, fresh tears rolling down his face. So that was what the had happened in the timeline his visions were trying to remind him of? That was the timeline where Eobard had failed?

Cisco fell to his knees, openly sobbing. “What do I do?” he asked no one in particular. “What do I do?”

“I don’t understand the question,” said a pleasant female voice off to his right. Cisco started, then turned to find that the podium was projecting a 3D image of a woman’s head, with no hair or eyeballs.

“What.” Cisco said flatly.

“I don’t understand the question,” the head repeated. “Please rephrase.”

“Uh,” Cisco hesitated. “What, are you?”

“I am Gideon, an interactive artificial consciousness,” explained the head.

“Future tech,” Cisco whispered under his breath. If he hadn’t been so desperate he’d have been intrigued. An AI? How did it work? Who had built it? How far in the future . . .

He shook himself. Now was not the time for idle curiosity.

“Gideon,” he said, in his best commanding voice, “can you get me out of this room?”

“Professor Thawne has instructed me to keep you here,” Gideon explained. She sounded oddly apologetic, for an AI.

“Okay,” Cisco considered. “Purely hypothetically, is there a way out of this room?”

Gideon shook her head. “I can’t answer that question.”

Cisco sighed, then half-heartedly wiped away the tears on his face. There was no one there to see them, except Gideon, but he doubted she would be reporting it. He turned and leaned against the wall, then glanced over at Gideon, who was still smiling serenely down at him.

“What questions can you answer?” Cisco asked in annoyance.

“Anything not pertaining to the time vault,” Gideon assured him.

Cisco thought for a moment. “What about questions about the future?” he asked. “Can you answer those?”

“I can answer any questions about anything not pertaining to the time vault,” Gideon repeated.

“Can you show me what Eobard hates so much about the future?” Cisco tried.

Gideon’s face disappeared, to be replaced by the front page of a newspaper. The lead article was titled “The Man Who Saved Central City” and prominently displayed a photo of Barry accepting some kind of award.

“So Barry’s pretty popular in the future,” Cisco gathered.

“Barry Allen is the center of Central City’s justice system,” Gideon confirmed. “The Flash is widely beloved, and has-”

“Yeah I get it,” Cisco cut her off, “why does Eobard hate it?”

“He does not think that the Flash’s fame is deserved,” Gideon informed him.

“But he hasn’t be able to interrupt this timeline?” Cisco asked. “Like, this is still the future?”

“This is the future,” Gideon confirmed.

“So what effect has Eobard had on the timeline?” Cisco wanted to know.

The image changed again, to reveal another newspaper headline, “The New World Power: Metahuman Soldiers.” Beneath it was a picture of a line of men in military uniforms, all shooting lightning out of their hands.

“Oh god,” Cisco whispered. “Eiling _is_ doing experiments on the metas we gave him!”

“Correct,” Gideon told him. “After General Eiling’s death these experiments will be condemned as atrocities, but while alive he will be called a hero.”

Cisco buried his head in his hands. Had he done anything good with his powers? Had there been a single vibe he’d told Eobard about that _hadn’t_ lead to something terrible happening? Had all his visions simply worked to make this timeline awful?

Was _that_ what the universe was trying to show him?

Dimly he remembered something Eobard had once told him. “Time wants to take a certain shape,” he whispered to himself.

“Correct,” Gideon repeated.

Cisco stood up. “Thank you Gideon,” he said grimly.

“Happy to be of service,” Gideon replied, and out of the corner of his eye Cisco thought he might have seen a smirk before she disappeared.

Cisco put his back to the wall opposite the non-existent door and braced himself against it. He took a deep breath, then fired a vibration blast at the door. It didn’t budge, so he fired another, and then another after that. He fired again and again, and eventually he saw a crack begin to appear in the wall. He blasted the wall over and over, trying to put more of his power behind each blast, and before long suddenly the wall was bursting open, rubble and debris flying out into the hallway.

Cisco stepped over the wreckage he had caused and out into STAR Labs. Then, terrified but determined, he made for the roof.

***

Barry had failed Cisco.

First he had failed him as a friend: he’d used Cisco as a rebound after Iris’s death, when he deserved so much more than that.

Next he had failed him as an ally: he hadn’t persuade Mason Bridge to give up his story, after Cisco had trusted him enough to tell him about the vibe.

Finally, most grievously, and perhaps fatally, Barry had failed Cisco as a hero.

He had allowed him to be abducted by the Reverse-Flash.

As Dr. Wells explained the situation Barry felt a crippling numbness settle over him like a tarp weighed down with cinder blocks. He felt like he was being smothered, like he wasn’t getting enough air, like he could suffocate where he stood. Caitlin immediately began making suggestions for finding him, but Barry excused himself to stumble out into the hallway. Thankfully neither of them followed him, and he leaned against the wall breathing deeply for several minutes.

Then, his phone rang.

For a moment he almost decided not to answer it, too wrapped up in his own misery. Then he remembered that it might be something important, Eddie perhaps, and fished it resignedly from his pocket.

It was Cisco’s number calling him.

Barry fumbled to answer, nearly dropping the phone in his haste. “Cisco?” he said hopefully into the receiver.

“Hey Barry,” came Cisco’s voice, thin and shaky.

“Oh thank god,” Barry sighed. “Dr. Wells told us what happened, I was so worried-”

“I’m fine,” Cisco assured him, in that same uncomfortably wobbly voice. “Listen, we need to talk.”

“Where are you?” Barry asked. “I’ll come get you, Caitlin’s gonna be so-”

“I’m on the roof,” Cisco interrupted.

Barry frowned. “The roof of where?”

“STAR Labs,” Cisco clarified. “Come alone. Don’t tell the others where you’re going.”

Then he hung up.

Curious, Barry did as he was told. He didn’t duck back into the cortex to tell Caitlin and Dr. Wells but rather zipped immediately up to the roof. There he found Cisco, standing at the edge of the rooftop and looking out over Central City.

“Cisco!” Barry cried joyfully, running up to him and pulling Cisco around into his arms.

Then, to Barry’s shock and confusion, Cisco planted a hand on Barry’s chest and fired a vibration blast. It knocked him back several feet, until he tripped over himself and went sprawling

“Cisco?” Barry asked in disbelief, rubbing at his aching chest. He couldn’t feel his speed, and as he got gingerly to his feet he could see Cisco looking at him with a strange, unreadable expression.

Cisco turned from him, then climbed up on the lip of the rooftop, balancing precariously on the edge.

“Woah,” Barry called as Cisco began cautiously turning back around. “Cisco, what are you-”

“I have to tell you something Barry,” Cisco interrupted. For a man teetering on the edge of a twenty story drop, he seemed amazingly calm.

“Why don’t you just come down from there,” Barry offered, “and we’ll talk.”

Cisco smiled a sad little smile, and Barry felt sick to his stomach. Had he really been such a bad friend as to have missed _this?_

“No Barry,” Cisco shook his head, and even that movement was enough to make Barry’s heart race. “This is good.”

Nervously, Barry nodded. “Okay,” he said shakily, “talk.”

“I’ve been lying to you,” Cisco confessed. “Or, more accurately, Dr. Wells has been lying to you and I’ve been complicit in it. Some of it was because I didn’t know, I just found out today, but some of it . . . some of it I’d known for a long time.”

“Why don’t we start with what you knew before today,” Barry suggested.

Cisco took a deep, shuddering breath. “Dr. Wells isn’t really Dr. Wells,” he said. “He’s really a speedster named Eobard Thawne. Remember how you time traveled to stop Mardon wiping out the whole city? Well he can time travel too, and he came back in time from centuries in the future.”

“Why?” Barry asked numbly.

“To kill you,” Cisco explained, “but that’s something I just found out today. What I knew before was that he killed Iris and Detective West, and in hindsight I think probably a lot of other people I don’t know about.”

“Why,” _would he do that?_ Barry wanted to ask, but it came out as, “why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because he told me it was for the greater good,” Cisco’s face twisted like he was trying not to cry, but he went on. “He told me he’d come back to prevent a terrible future, and that their deaths were necessary.”

“And you believed him?” Barry demanded.

“I did,” Cisco admitted calmly, but there was shame and regret in his eyes. “I shouldn’t have, but I did.”

“Why is he helping me if he wants me dead?” Barry asked.

“Because he needs you to get back to the future,” Cisco explained. “His speed was damaged when he . . . when he went back to kill you, when you were eleven.”

Barry’s eyes widened. “You mean . . . he’s the Reverse Flash.”

Cisco nodded. “Trust me,” he said, “no one could be more surprised than me.”

“Why did he tell you all this?” Barry shook his head. “What are you to him?”

“I’m his pawn,” Cisco said, a bitter smile curling the corners of his mouth. “I thought he was my . . . my lover, but he was just using me. He had me tell him my visions, of how things went wrong last time. That’s why he killed Iris and her dad.”

Barry’s heart felt like it was tearing in two. “Last time?” he croaked, the only part of it he could focus on.

“He’s done this once before,” Cisco told him. “The first time around he killed your mom, but then you went back in time and stopped him. That’s why this timeline is so screwed up.”

“If I stopped him shouldn’t that mean I fixed everything?” Barry demanded. “Shouldn’t everything be going right?”

Cisco shook his head sadly. “Time wants to take a certain shape,” he recited, as though from a book or a sermon. “The timeline where Eobard killed your mom . . . that’s the shape it wants to take. That’s what it’s been trying to tell me.”

Cisco glanced over his shoulder at the fall from the rooftop, and Barry’s heart leaped.

“Cisco!” he called, reaching out a hand, but his speed still wasn’t back yet.

“You have to reset this timeline,” Cisco warned. “You have to stop yourself saving your mom. It’s the only way to save Iris, and undo all the other bad things Eobard’s done.”

Cisco took a deep breath. “It’s the only way to save me.”

As Cisco tipped backward Barry was dimly aware of his own screaming. He scrambled forward, hands outstretched to try and snatch Cisco out of the air, but without his speed he was too slow. He wasn’t fast enough to save Cisco, just like he wasn’t fast enough to save Iris, just like he wasn’t fast enough to catch the Reverse Flash.

Cisco fell.


	7. Chapter 7

Barry walked numbly back down onto the main floor of STAR Labs at normal speed. His powers had returned, too little too late, but he could barely see the point of them now. What good were they, when they only deserted him when he needed them the most?

“Barry,” called Caitlin when he made his way back to the cortex. “I think I’ve found a way to track Cisco. His powers-”

“I found Cisco,” Barry said hoarsely.

Caitlin stared at him blankly. “What?”

“Where?” demanded Dr. Wells -- Thawne? -- in alarm.

Barry took a deep breath as he tried to think of what to say. “I went outside for some air,” he lied. “I found him . . . lying there.”

“Does he need medical attention?” Caitlin jumped up and made for the door.

“No, Cait,” Barry caught her arm. “He doesn’t need medical attention.”

Caitlin stared at him, her eyes taking on a fearful, haunted quality. “Barry,” she said slowly, “why doesn’t he need medical attention?”

“He fell,” Barry said quietly, “from the roof.”

He glanced over at Thawne, and his voice hardened. “The Reverse-Flash must have . . . driven him over the edge.”

“Oh god,” whispered Caitlin, clapping a hand over her mouth.

Thawne’s mouth was set in a grim, furious line. “You’re sure,” it was barely even a question.

Barry nodded.

Thawne took a deep, shuddering breath, lowering his head to rub at his temples while bracing his elbow on the arm of his chair. Then abruptly he looked back up at Barry.

“Then there’s no time like the present, Mr. Allen,” he said shortly. “You’re going to save him.”

“How?” Caitlin demanded, her voice choked with despair but a glimmer of hope in her eyes. “He’s already-”

“Time travel,” Thawne interrupted her, then looked back at Barry. His eyes were harder than Barry was used to, but then again if Cisco’s last words were to be believed he’d just lost a very valuable chess piece.

“You, Mr. Allen,” he went on, “are going to go back to before Cisco . . . fell, and prevent it from happening.”

“I’ll try,” Barry told him, “but I’ve never done it on purpose before.”

“This time you will,” Thawne said harshly. “I’ve devised a means to test that particular gift of yours, and now we’re going to try it out.”

Barry nodded grimly. “Alright,” he said, “what do I do?”

Run around inside the particle accelerator, apparently. Thawne explained the process in detail but Barry didn’t follow most of it, too preoccupied with not punching him in the face. He knew Thawne’s calculations would be accurate; after all, he’d been planning this a long time. Barry knew what he had to do. That was enough.

When the Speed Force opened before him and Thawne’s voice told him to concentrate on Cisco, Barry struggled not to do just that. He struggled not to just go back to an hour ago, wait on the roof for Cisco to come up and then whisk him down to the pipeline. He’d be safe there, unable to hurt himself, unable to destroy the life that Barry had come to care so much about in such a short time. They could keep him locked up, angry but alive, until Barry convinced him that this timeline wasn’t so bad. Barry wouldn’t have to lose anyone.

But Cisco was nothing if not clever. He’d find a way out, and then he’d find another way to kill himself. He’d do it as many times as he had to until Barry gave up. Cisco had been right; there was only one way to save him.

When Barry arrived at the street outside his house, the other Barry was already there.

“Stop!” he called, just as the Barry from the previous timeline was about to speed into the house.

Other Barry jumped in surprise. “What are you doing here?” he demanded.

“I came back to stop you,” Barry said, despite how the words tried to catch in his throat. “You can’t change the timeline, you can’t . . . can’t save her.”

“Why not?” Other Barry demanded, and Barry could hear the grief in his voice. He’d just lost someone too.

Barry swallowed and tried not to think of what other losses he might suffer in this timeline that was supposedly better. Nothing could be worse than watching helplessly as Cisco fell from that rooftop.

“You don’t know what the timeline will be like,” Barry said simply. “What’s happened . . . I have to stop it.”

He looked at Other Barry as seriously as he could. “Even if it means losing mom.”

Other Barry looked down, and Barry could see there were tears in his eyes. Then he nodded grimly.

“Okay,” he said, looking up, “I believe you.”

Barry nodded.

***

Barry stood in the doorway to the lab, silently watching Cisco work. He wanted to talk to him, talk to his _friend_ , but he didn’t know how to open the conversation. What he wanted was for Cisco to talk to _him_ , but Cisco wasn’t doing much talking at all these days, and least of all to Barry.

When Barry had gone back to save his mother, he’d created an alternate timeline. A version of himself from that timeline had come back to stop it from happening, but Barry had no idea what had been so bad about a world where his mother was still alive that it had to be undone. Based on Cisco’s reaction though, Barry was inclined to believe what his other self had said. By virtue of his power Cisco still had the memories from that timeline, and whatever he knew about it had left him distant and withdrawn, with a special coldness reserved for Barry.

The opportunity to announce his presence came in the form of Cisco accidentally knocking his slushie off the table. Barry didn’t give himself time to think, just sped over and snatched it out of the air. Cisco looked surprised to find Barry suddenly next to him, but swiftly looked back down as he took his slushie from Barry’s hand.

“Thanks,” he said dully, not looking up.

“Glad I could help!” Barry chirped, trying to sound as enthusiastic as possible. He grinned, but Cisco wasn’t looking at him, and when Cisco didn’t respond he let it slide slowly off his face.

“Anything else I can do?” Barry offered, leaning in to look at what Cisco was working on.

“No,” Cisco said simply, still not looking at him. His curtain of dark hair hid his face, and Barry wanted to tuck it behind his ear so he could see his friend more clearly.

“Do you wanna get a drink?” Barry tried. “I bet we could convince Caitlin to come, if we-”

“I have to finish this,” Cisco cut him off, and Barry couldn’t help but feel that if Cisco would just _look_ at him then he might be able to get somewhere.

“Another time maybe?” Barry asked, tentative and a little bit hopeful.

“Maybe,” Cisco replied noncommittally.

Barry sighed. All he wanted was his friend back; Team STAR Labs, the way it used to be. Instead he was getting the silent treatment, and he hated it more than anything.

“Look, dude, how much longer are you going to stay mad at me?” he asked wearily.

Cisco didn’t exactly look at him, but for the first time he threw a glance in Barry’s general direction. “What?” he said, sounding genuinely confused.

“Ever since I came back from _not_ saving my mother you’ve barely spoken to me,” Barry explained. “Look, whatever happened, I fixed the timeline okay? What more do you want?”

Cisco shook his head, dark hair flopping. “Nothing, Barry,” he said. “I want nothing more.”

Barry opened his mouth to argue, to say that clearly Cisco needed something from him, but evidently his friend hadn’t been finished.

“I want nothing from you,” Cisco went on, and Barry could see that his grip on the tool he was holding was turning his knuckles white, “and I will rely on you for nothing.”

Barry frowned, confused and a little hurt. “Cisco-”

Cisco whirled to face him. “I will work with you because that is what needs to be done,” he declared venomously, “but let me make one thing perfectly clear. We?” he gestured between himself and Barry, “are not friends. You’ve shown me exactly what my friendship is worth to you, and I’m not giving it away for free anymore.”

“Come on Cisco,” Barry whined, “don’t you think you’re overreacting?”

“Overreacting?” Cisco shouted, and Barry flinched. “I spent three years in a mental institution you asshole! I thought I was crazy because of what I saw! Those memories didn’t just go away, they’re still here.”

He gestured at his temple, eyes wild and glistening with unshed tears.

"You don’t know the things that went down in that timeline Barry, but I do. The things I did, the things that happened to me, I will never, _ever_ forget. That’s what my power is Barry, to remember every shitty timeline you create. But I guess you weren’t thinking about that, about what would happen to _me_ , when you went back in time to erase everything we’d ever done!”

Tears were leaking out of the corners of his eyes, but he was too busy glaring at Barry to dash them away.

“You traded me, our friendship, this  _life,_ for your mom. But I guess that’s a good thing,” Cisco threw up his hands and took a step back. “Now I know exactly what I’m worth to you.”

Barry gaped at Cisco, trying to come up with something to say. His stomach churned with guilt so much that he felt physically ill. “Cisco I, I’m sorry-”

“Don’t be sorry, Barry,” Cisco said, turning back to his work with a look of unbridled disgust. “Just go.”

Barry stood there a moment longer, mouth working uselessly as he tried to find words. Nothing seemed adequate to express how sorry he was, how much he wanted to take Cisco’s pain away. More than anything he wanted to pull Cisco into his arms and hold him until his friend stopped hurting, but he didn’t think that would go over so well with the mood Cisco was in.

Eventually he could think of nothing to do or say, so he turned around and sped out of the lab.

***

Some part of Cisco knew that Barry had chosen him over Nora in the end. Some part of Cisco didn’t give a damn what Barry had chosen in the end. Barry had still been willing to throw away their friendship, all their adventures, Cisco’s wonderful, insane, incredible life, for two people Barry had always been meant to outlive. He could still taste the bile in his throat from the morning he’d woken up to realize Barry had gone back in time to erase everything they’d accomplished.

He remembered everything. It wasn’t like a vibe, or even a series of vibes, just the memories of two different timelines layered over each other from start to finish. He remembered smiling at his college graduation. He remembered crying the first night after he’d been committed. He remembered hitting Zoom with the tranquilizer gun. He remembered the fall from the rooftop.

He remembered knowing Dr. Wells, or rather Eobard Thawne, every way it was possible to know a person.

As he traipsed up to his apartment after a long day of ignoring Barry he decided to forego his nightly contemplation of what it would take for him to forgive his ex-best-friend. He knew he’d have to at some point, whether or not Barry deserved it, but things would never be the same again. Cisco would have to live with the memories of the erased timeline, even when Barry didn’t. It wasn’t Barry that had to pay for his mistake, it was Cisco, and he wasn’t sure they could ever come back from that. They’d never have the same level of trust between them. He could never count on Barry like he used to. 

He unlocked his front door, then opened it slowly, careful not to let out the tortoiseshell calico he knew was lurking inside. Lightning liked to wait until the door was fully open before darting out, forcing him to chase her around the apartment complex. Thankfully he managed to get inside without incident, but once he’d closed the door no friendly felines came to greet him.

“Lightning?” Cisco called. “Here kitty kitty.”

She didn’t come.

Cisco wandered into the kitchen, wondering if she’d gotten into something, but that room was exactly as he’d left it and completely devoid of cats. She wasn’t in the bedroom either, and just as he was getting concerned that he’d left a window open somewhere he went to the living room and found her purring on the sofa.

Sitting in the lap of Eobard Thawne.

Cisco glowered at her. “Traitor,” he grumbled.

Immediately she leaped out of Eobard grasp, being sure to flick him in the nose with her tail, and went to wind herself affectionately around Cisco’s ankles.

“You know sometimes I swear you can understand me,” he picked her up and held her close to his face. She purred and rubbed her cheek on his.

“Cats are exceptionally clever,” Eobard remarked. “I’ve always liked them.”

“I’m sure you have,” Cisco said wearily.

“I don’t remember you having a cat,” Eobard replied.

Cisco shrugged. “It’s a little hard to get advice for what I’ve been through, but broadly speaking the internet recommended a therapy animal.”

Eobard tilted his head to the side. “You don’t seem very surprised to see me,” he noticed.

“I think I’ve lost the ability to be surprised by you,” Cisco informed him as he cuddled Lightning close to his chest. “Just so you know, I have my memories from a timeline where I fully unlocked my powers, so I know how to use them.”

“I recall that timeline,” Eobard smirked. “And the one that came before.”

Cisco frowned. “How can you remember both of them?”

“I remember all of them,” Eobard went on. “The one where you unlocked your powers early. The one where you didn’t have them until much later. The one where Hartley was our enemy, and the one where he was our ally.”

He lowered his eyes. “The one where I killed you.”

“How can you remember all that?” Cisco shook his head.

Eobared shrugged unconcernedly. “A quirk of my position in causality.”

“And what is your ‘position in causality,’ exactly,” Cisco hoisted Lightning onto one arm to make air quotes with his other hand.

“I’m a paradox,” Eobard explained. “Now, the universe doesn’t like paradoxes. So its solution is put them in a little . . . let’s call it a box.”

“So you’ve been in this ‘box,” Cisco made air quotes again, “for the last year?”

“Mhm,” Eobard nodded.

“How did you escape?” Cisco wanted to know.

Eobard smiled. “Now Cisco, I’m sure you’re clever enough to figure that out.”

Cisco considered for a moment, then-

“Barry,” he realized, eyes going wide. Lightning made a concerned noise and bumped the top of her head against his chin.

“Barry,” Eobard repeated, nodding. “He created a paradox as well, one you are still feeling the effects of.”

“It opened the box,” Cisco said.

“Allowing me to slip out,” Eobard concluded with a sly smile.

Cisco sighed and lowered his arms so that Lightning could jump to the floor. Immediately she leaped onto the arm of the sofa to glare at Eobard menacingly, as if to say that if he made one wrong move she’d claw the crap out of him.

“So that’s _how_ you’re here,” Cisco said, folding his arms defensively over his chest. “What about the why?”

Eobard gave Cisco a look that was almost pitying. “Why do you think?”

“If you’re here to kill me-” Cisco began.

“Why would I want to kill you, pet?” Eobard interrupted.

The use of his old nickname, its meaning so much clearer now, made him shiver. “I’m not your pet,” he said, low and dangerous, dropping his arms to his sides so he could clench his hands into fists.

Eobard chose to ignore this. “I came to ask you something.”

“I won’t promise you an answer,” Cisco said disdainfully.

Eobard stood up. There was a significant distance between them, but still he towered over cisco. Lightning hissed, back arched, but she didn’t move.

“Why did you die for him?” he asked, and his voice sounded weaker than Cisco had ever heard it. He sounded hollow, and desperate, and a little despairing.

“I didn’t do it for him,” Cisco answered, despite how much he’d have liked to leave Eobard in eternal suspense. “I did it for me.”

“Why?” Eobard demanded.

“So that I wouldn’t have to live in a timeline where you existed,” Cisco told him.

Eobard closed his eyes, and the ghost of a smile flitted across his face. “Do you honestly believe such a thing exists?” he inquired, once he opened them again.

Cisco frowned. “What are you getting at?” he asked nervously, putting his hand in his pocket.

“I found you,” Eobard explained, a pleased smile spreading over his face as he stalked slowly toward Cisco, “in both timelines. It was me who found you, not _Barry Allen_. What do you think that means?”

“What do _you_ think it means?” Cisco took a step back as Eobard stepped closer. Lightning let out a low growling noise, claws digging into the upholstery now, preparing to spring.

“It means-” Eobard forced him back until he hit the wall, then kept advancing until he was right in front of Cisco, “-that you were meant to be mine.”

“I am not yours,” Cisco said firmly. “I never was yours, and will never be yours.”

“You were,” Eobard corrected, voice achingly gentle. “You will be again. That I promise you, my Cisco.”

Cisco pulled his phone out of his pocket. “Wanna bet?” he asked, showing him the flashing red light that meant Barry had been alerted that he was in trouble.

At that precise moment Barry came barreling into the room, fist outstretched to clock Eobard in the jaw. A vicious uppercut lifted him clean off his feet until he hit the ceiling, then came crashing back down again. Lightning screeched as Eobard went sprawling onto the floor, then bolted down from the sofa to place herself in front of Cisco, hissing and spitting all the while.

“You stay away from him,” Barry said, voice vibrating with rage.

Eobard looked up savagely at Barry, breathing hard through his nose. He took a few deep breaths, glaring at Barry, then glanced over at Cisco.

“I’ll be back for you,” he said simply, then in a blur of red lightning he was gone.

“Cisco!” Barry whirled around and immediately pulled him into a tight hug. “Are you okay?”

“F-fine,” Cisco stuttered. He didn’t really want to be hugging Barry, but it felt awkward standing there being hugged with his arms hanging limply at his sides. Lightning purred, and Cisco glared down at her.

After a moment or two Barry seemed to notice Cisco’s discomfort. He pulled away and stepped back, clearing his throat.

“So,” Barry said, looking down at his shoes. “Glad you’re okay.”

Cisco nodded, but said nothing.

“That was Thawne,” Barry jerked his thumb over his shoulder.

“Yep,” Cisco said.

“I don’t suppose there’s a chance that he’s. . . somehow not real?” Barry wondered.

“Nope,” Cisco replied. “He’s real. Until we can find a way to defeat him, he’s back for good.”

“How?” Barry wanted to know.

“You created a paradox,” Cisco explained. “Space-time went funny and spat him out.”

“Oh god,” Barry moaned, “Cisco I’m so sorry!”

Cisco sighed wearily. “It’s not your fault, you didn’t know-”

“It is my fault,” Barry insisted. “If I hadn’t been so selfish, if I’d been thinking about my friends, about _you,_  for one second, this wouldn’t have happened!”

Cisco stood there, stunned into silence. He blinked at Barry, and Barry’s face twisted into a look of despair.

“You may not want to be my friend anymore but I promise things are going to change,” Barry assured him. “I don’t care if you never forgive me, but I’m going to do better.”

As though without conscious thought, Barry reached out with both hands and took Cisco’s hands in his.

“I promise,” he said seriously, looking into Cisco’s eyes. “I’m going to consult you before I change the timeline ever again. I’m never going to let the Reverse-Flash hurt you, and I’m going to protect you from whatever else is out there.”

“Dude, you sound like you’re reciting wedding vows,” Cisco told him, but he couldn’t stop himself from smiling just a little.

Barry beamed at him, joyful and relieved. “I’m making a commitment here,” he joked, and a small laugh bubbled up in Cisco’s chest to come bursting out his mouth.

Lightning meowed her approval.

“I swear that whatever you’re going through I’m not gonna let you go through it alone,” Barry promised, “and I mean that this time. No more only asking you to use your powers when I need them, we’re gonna train and I’m gonna help you figure them out.”

“Well actually,” Cisco admitted, “in that alternate timeline I got pretty good with my powers.”

Barry’s smile faded, to be replaced by a look of determination. “And that?” he said grimly. “That’s step one.”

He tugged Cisco over to the couch and had him sit down so the two of them were facing each other. “Tell me about the alternate timeline.”

Cisco’s eyes went wide. “Dude, no,” he said, “trust me, you don’t want to hear it.”

“But you need to talk about it,” Barry insisted, “and I need to listen.”

Cisco looked down, biting his lip. “I . . . I’m not sure . . . “ he trailed off. He knew that Barry was right, he should probably talk about what had happened, but he wouldn’t wish this story on his worst enemy, let alone his . . .

Friend.

Barry placed a hand on Cisco’s shoulder, and he looked up. “Just start at the beginning,” Barry said calmly.

Cisco took a deep, shuddering breath.

“Okay,” he began. “I started having visions when I was twelve.”


End file.
